


Flowers Pisses Me Off

by talkativefangirl13



Category: X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Language of Flowers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2020-08-20 17:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkativefangirl13/pseuds/talkativefangirl13
Summary: "I’m trying to help you, you insolent jerk!”Logan heaved and tried catching his breath while his healing factor fixed up the damage inside his throat. He spat the remaining blood on the floor in which Scott mentally added to the list of things he’ll be cleaning later.With a tired grunt, Logan sat up on his hunches while glaring down on the bright red flower he was holding, without as much as a second thought, he shrugged and placed it on a nearby vase before turning to glare at Scott, “Obviously I don’t need yer help,” he said, “Stop pestering me, One Eye.”





	1. Who Said Anything About a Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Should I say prepare for trigger warnings? 
> 
> Anyway, please bare my grammatical errors, I'm experiencing sleep deprivation while typing this story.
> 
> If you want to know where I got the meaning of the flowers, I used [this](https://www.theflowerexpert.com/content/aboutflowers/flower-meanings) for reference.
> 
> EDIT MARCH 25: The last chapter is currently on the making, the timeline is finished, and my country's on lockdown. But i'm currently in a state of those shitty cliche shit called 'heartbreak' (i cringe just thinking about it). But don't worry, i plan on finishing this as soon as I can.

_**Hanahaki Disease:** an illness where the patient cough up flowers when they suffer from one sided love. Flowers that will eventually clog up the respiratory system and windpipe leading to eventual **death**_. 

It was by complete accident, Scott hadn’t meant to walk in on Logan in one of the third floor toilet rooms. Assuming that classes were going, he hadn’t thought that someone might probably be using the restrooms and decided to just barged right in. Scott knew it wasn’t like him to do that, but maybe breaking his character for once had been beneficial.

For example; discovering one of your team members’ current health status.

Scott was left staring down on Logan who was kneeling on the floor while gripping the seat of the toilet, his claws were out and his breathing was heavy. By this point, Scott would gladly step out and give him the privacy he needs, but circumstances like this had somehow made him stay and analyse the situation. It was obvious that Logan wasn’t happy with the intrusion just by looking at the curve of his eyebrows.

Scott was used to the glares that the other guy throws at him on a daily basis, but seeing Logan leaned down on the toilet bowl, filled with a bundle of small, dark petals while blood trickle down his lips. Scott felt like there was more to it than Logan being annoyed.

Logan stood up with as much grace a person could have with adamantium coated bones, wiped the blood from his mouth and flushed the toilet, Scott internally winced and mentally added plumbing into his list of chores. 

Logan didn’t spare another minute, he shoved Scott out from the door to make way for himself. There was a loud thud when he hit his back on the opposite wall, but Scott was more preoccupied by trying not to knock a frame off and listening if Logan has something to say. 

But Scott heard nothing.

He just found himself standing alone inside the restroom as if the short event from earlier didn’t happened. Looking down on the bowl and finding that the toilet had been easily clogged up, Scott concluded that Logan’s been hiding it for quite some time now.

Without as much of a sigh, he grabbed a plunger.

* * *

Hanahki Disease, Scott had heard of it in the news but never saw one first hand. It’s a kind of disease where only one in a million would have. A rare sickness that would be considered much worse than cancer. It’s a lot more excruciating but at least death would be easier to reach.

It’s true that falling in-love was easy, but a great percent had their feelings reciprocated and even if some of them don’t, a number of them could just move on and find a different one, probably even better. Only a small portion of people can’t have that kind of luxury, the kind of people who no matter how much they try, once they knew the feelings can’t be reciprocated nor can it go away, that’s when the disease kicks in.

Hanahaki is an ugly and painful way to die, according to numerous documentary films that Scott had managed to watch when he was still a kid; breathing started to become a daily hassle and your health decreases in an alarming rate, either flower roots or blood veins started to become prominent on the skin and your weight would drop until there’s nothing left but skin and bones.

After observing Logan for a couple of days, he noticed that none of the symptoms seemed to show up on him, his breathing’s still unknown but if all things considered, Logan doesn’t looked like he’s suffering from Hanahaki, and assuming that he had it for a decent amount of time now, his healing factor must’ve been very beneficial to him.

It wasn’t Logan’s health that kept Scott spaced out in his office, but because of the idea that he’s _in-love_. If there was one thing he would judge the Wolverine about, that it’s his ability to love someone. He could care, that part was obvious with how he always keeps an eye on Marie. But to actually fall in-love with someone romantically was an idea that Scott had somehow found it hard to grasp.

But on a much more serious question. Who was the girl?

It was already discussed that Logan’s infatuation with Jean was nothing but physical attraction, and if it _was_ about her, then Logan’s Hanahaki Disease was irrelevant because Jean’s dead. It could only work if your beloved was alive. 

Scott should take consideration that he doesn’t really know _when_ did Logan started to have the symptoms, but basing from the recent number of toilets that needed plumbing and being that Jean’s been dead for over two years, it can’t be that Logan fell in-love with her back when she was alive.

Marie was out of the picture, although he should consider that Logan wasn’t happy nor angry with her relationship with Bobby, it was obvious that his care for her was more likely as a friend or a daughter than a lover.

“That’s an odd list.” Ororo suddenly said, peering down on his table with a quirked eyebrow, “What’s it for?”

Scott looked down to see a list of female names that were all crossed out, one of which was his dead wife. Scott slowly folded it and slipped it between one of the books laid down on his desk, “Just something that would answer my curiosity.”

The next time Scott saw Logan, it was after a futile attempt to fall asleep and concluding that a glass of water would be essential for his health, he headed down the kitchen only to see the older man leaning down on the sink. He wasn’t coughing, he was merely trying to grab something inside his mouth. With a forced hack, Logan pulled out a bundle of dark petals coated with a thick mixture of saliva and blood.

Scott tried not to scold at him when Logan dumped the ball of petals on the sink before opening the faucet to help it flush down the drain.

“If you’re not careful,” Scott started, confirming his presence to Logan, “The students might find out.”

As expected, Logan turned around with a frown plastered on his face, “Isn’t it way past your bed time, Slim?” 

Scott ignored the insult and headed towards the fridge, noticing that there’s still a carton of milk, he pulled that out instead before grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

Logan grimaced while staring at his choice of drink, “I don’t want to judge, but are ya five or what?”

Scott tilted his head to the right, “Milk is a beneficial drink to everyone at any age, Logan,” he informed him as if it was obvious, “It builds up the bones and teeth to become stronger, generates energy, helps maintain healthy blood pressure and oth—”

“And I shouldn’t have just open my damn mouth,” Logan said to himself, cutting him off in mid-sentence. He grabbed the plate of sandwich that Scott assumed he made before walking towards the table and sitting down on one of the chairs.

It wasn’t like the older man had told him to go away nor gave him an invitation, but Scott saw this as a good sign to take the seat opposite from Logan. He had nothing but a glare thrown at his way, but other than that, the older mutant remained silent and started scarfing down his food. Scott refrained himself from pointing out his lack of table manners.

“Who’s the girl?” Scott found himself asking while pouring down the milk on his glass.

Logan looked up, cheeks filled with food before swallowing down, and to Scott’s observation, with effort, “What girl?”

Scott placed down the carton of milk, “_The_ girl, Logan,” he said, “The cause for your Hanahaki.”

“Hanawhat?” 

“Hanahaki,” Scott repeated before realizing something, “Don’t tell me, twenty years right after losing your memories, you still don’t know anything, not even a bit about Hanahaki Disease?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I guess it’s my fault that I’d rather find out who the fuck I am first than study some sort of gibberish sickness I’m supposed to know.”

“It’s not gibberish,” Scott informed him, “It’s actually horrifying to think, you’re lucky that you have healing factor unlike most. You’d be dead by now if it weren’t for it.”

The word ‘dead’ had made the older man snort, Scott tried not to feel annoyed by his over confidence just because he can’t die. Hanahaki is a serious matter, no one can guarantee that Logan can _always_ heal from it.

“So what’s it about?” Logan asked, “’Cuz obviously I don’t know jack-shit about it.”

Scott later found himself discussing the basics about the Hanahaki disease to Logan who somehow became quiet, grunting every now and then as if to tell Scott that he was still listening. Somewhere along his explanation, when Logan asked a question, Scott realized that he doesn’t really _know_ much about the sickness himself. 

“Why is it only one type of flower?”

Scott was silent for a moment, “I’m not sure, but it has something to do with what it meant.” He told him, his eyebrows uncharacteristically wrinkling, “Every flower has a deep meaning to it, and it illustrates the kind of care you have for the other.” He explained before adding, “What type of flower was yours?”

Logan scoffed, “The only type of red flower I know is roses,” he said which was an obvious no, and also informing Scott the correct color of the petals.

It was after a couple of explanations later when Logan finally decided to give out his comment, “Coughing flowers because of a shitty one sided love? That must’ve been the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Scott didn’t know how he should feel that Logan wasn’t taking the idea seriously.

Later that night, or day depending on what time it was, Scott realized that Logan didn’t answered him. He settled it with the fact that maybe the older mutant didn’t want to tell anyone about her. The idea that the mighty Wolverine was in-love with someone living, someone who wasn’t Jean, had somehow left Scott feeling odd, and he was sure it wasn’t on the positive side.

* * *

It was after two simulations later in the Danger Room did Scott realized that Logan wasn’t dealing the disease quite well as he thought he was. He still heals and everything, but he move slower and always seemed to be out of breath. Scott wanted to put Logan on the back to avoid others taking notice of his state, but when had Wolverine ever followed his orders?

It was obvious that Ororo and Kurt had noticed Logan’s change of movement in training, Kurt was just too scared to ask Logan and Ororo only gave a questioning glance towards Scott’s way. He tried to ignore them and focus on battle tactics when Logan suddenly lunched his way towards the sentinel, ending the simulation on his own.

Scott turned to look at Logan only to see the older man immediately standing up and getting out the room in a hurried manner, his hands were balled into a fist with his claws out and his shoulders looked tight, as if trying to push the petals from coming out of his mouth.

“Is something wrong with Logan?” Marie asked, the concern was evident in her voice.

Scott turned to see the team giving him questioning looks as if expecting that he had the answer they wanted to hear, “He probably just wanted to smoke,” he reasoned, “It’s not like he never ended the simulation on his own.”

“Yeah but it’s usually to piss you off,” Ororo said to him when the simulation started with a different setting and opponents.

Scott didn’t know if Logan wanted his privacy, so he decided to keep his mouth shut and prevent the others to question Logan’s odd behaviour, subtly dropping the subject if it ever arises by asking their school activities or lesson planners. Scott didn’t know if he should feel sad or relieved that one of the students discussed _his_ odd behaviour and was answered by another that he was already weird from the get go.

He decided to just overlook it.

When another team training finished and with Logan leaving way too early again, Scott hit the showers only to see dark small petals, which he assumed to be red, trailed around the tiled floor, it would look romantic if it weren’t for the splatter of blood the comes with it. Scott stepped out to grab a mop before coming back and started wiping the floor, cleaning every trance of Logan’s condition.

He saw the older man naked under the last stall with the water falling down hard on him from the shower head, red petals surrounding him, “The next time this happens, I’m not fixing the drainage,” Scott merely told him, leaning on the wall beside him while looking down on Logan.

The feral mutant craned his head up to look at him, “Why not? Just grab a wrench and ya look like a fuckin’ plumber.”

Scott let out an exhale through his nose, slightly shaking his head down before looking back at him, “Don’t you think it’s necessary to inform Hank about this?” he advised him.

With a grunt, Logan stood up and turned the shower off, “Why don’t ya mind yer own damn business,” he said before plastering a fake smile, “How ‘bout that?” he added. Logan didn’t chose to wait for his response, with a quick stride, he got out of the stall while shoving Scott away. He grabbed his towel from the bench before wrapping it around his waist as he left.

Scott wanted to feel furious, but he found himself letting out a tired sigh before continuing to mop the floor. It’s not that he can’t get annoyed by Logan anymore, he just seem to let the insults and snarky responses go, knowing that growing flowers inside your lungs was a painful process. He would never understand what Logan currently felt, but he knows that it must be frustrating to realize that someone you love can never love you back.

* * *

Scott never tried to advice Logan on having a check-up with Hank again, but he would have if the guy wasn’t avoiding him. Avoiding seem to be a bit too much, it’s more or less dodging Scott’s advances whenever he tried to make a discussion with him. 

Logan doesn’t leave the area whenever Scott arrives, no, they could spend hours inside the same room, but if ever Scott decides to bring up or give any sign about anything close to his condition or even flowers, he would stood up with a grunt and leave the room without as much as giving him a second glance.

Scott decided to persuade Logan on a different time if things starts to aggravate, for the moment, he became the other man’s personal janitor. 

Whenever he arrives in a room where he presumes Logan would be, he would see the guy sitting on the floor with his head pressed up against the wall, saliva and blood coated petals beside him. Since then, Scott decided to bring a mop whenever he searches for him.

It was probably just his imagination, but Scott somehow felt that Logan was watching him the whole time he was cleaning the area. He never received a thanks, but it's not like he's asking for it, staring at him was the closest acknowledgement he could get from the guy.

Scott had learned to keep tabs on him whenever or wherever he was. No he didn’t put a tracking device on his clothes, he just found himself asking a couple of students about his whereabouts. Recently, it has been easier since the guy rarely leaves the mansion. With Logan’s condition, his constant visit to a bar had been out of the option knowing that coughing flower petals comes in random.

Weeks had passed with Scott following this routine, he ended up keeping a schedule of his own in his room, trying to juggle on watching over Logan and the school or team priorities. Scott even minimized the team training much to Hank and Ororo’s confusion. If there’s anything you can’t change from Scott Summers, that’s team training.

It didn’t took long for Scott to wonder _who_ was the girl that Logan kept on coughing flowers for. Scott had analysed the whole school, wondering if it was one of the students, that maybe Logan thought the girl can’t return the feelings because of the age difference. But that idea went down the drain thinking that even Logan knows his own limits when it comes to pedophilia, he, after all, has the ability to _wait_. Age was never his problem like everyone does. 

Guessing for Logan’s beloved had been harder than he thought. It’s not like he knows his type, the only person he knew that Logan had a thing for was his wife, Jean, and finding a person even remotely similar to her wasn’t easy, especially within the mansion. 

Scott contemplated once about Munroe, she never had any reasons for Logan to hate nor fall for, a thought that he found hard to put a conclusion on. In the end, she’s the first person Scott wrote under his ‘In Consideration’ list.

In the midst of juggling team training, school priorities, managing Logan’s flower condition and searching for the mystery girl, Scott had come across a couple of students studying the different kinds of flowers for their biology subject. The next thing Scott knew, he was huddled along the students with a pen and paper in hand, taking notes and trying to read the flower's physical description to learn its color.

It wasn’t long before Scott started visiting the library as if he was a college student, taking down notes on his newly purchased notebook. Ororo had stared at him questioningly one morning after she witnessed him eating his cereal while reading a book about flowers and their meaning while scribbling down on his almost completely full notebook.

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other until Scott decided to brake it by asking her if she needed anything, Munroe only shook her head before heading straight towards the fridge, he didn’t manage to miss the side glance she kept throwing on his way though. 

It wasn’t just Ororo that managed to notice his behaviour, Hank had somehow found him huddled in the library reading a book about the meaning of flowers when it comes to Hanahaki Disease.

“That’s an odd choice to read.” Hank told him.

Scott looked up to see the blue mutant watching him intently, “I always read books, Hank,” he said.

“Yes, you do,” Hank agreed while taking a sit across from him, “But if you were to read that kind of theme, you’d grab a book about its cases in the past.” He reminded him, “Not _this_.” He added, indicating a paw on the book Scott was currently reading and will be reading.

If anything, Scott has a knack for studying history, no matter how stupid it was. That’s why he tends to share the things he’d learned to the students, only it seem to happen whenever nobody wants to listen. Marie once asked him if he was alright, and honestly, he didn’t know if he should feel offended or not.

“I got interested,” Scott simply reasoned before returning to his work.

Hank hummed before grabbing one of Scott’s list and started reading it, he didn’t noticed the wrinkle that formed on the blue mutant’s forehead, “You have an odd interest with red flowers,” he pointed out that made the team leader still his movements, “Chrysanthemum, Marigold, Zinnia, if I didn’t know better it seemed like you’re searching for a certain kind of flower.” He said, “A red one that has small petals.”

Scott sighed before placing the book face down on the table and looked passively at Hank, “I’ve read somewhere about a recent case of Hanahaki Disease.” He lied professionally.

“And you got curious?”

Scott nodded, opening a different book and flipping its pages, “A guy in his mid-thirties had somehow gotten ill and started coughing...” he flipped a page and right that instant, he noticed a flower with very familiar petals, “These kinds of petals.” He said turning the book over at Hank, “There’s a deep meaning why a person with Hanahaki only produces one kind of flower, and it’s mainly about how the person felt. I wanted to know his.” He explained before adding, "Is it red?"

Hank nodded, “This is a Red Carnation,” he said looking down on the book, giving it a quick scan before closing it completely, “It meant _Pride_ and _Admiration_. That guy must’ve admired someone too much but is too prideful to admit it, even to himself.” He explained.

_Pride and Admiration._

Logan had never seem to stop surprising Scott. The pride part was easy to comprehend, but the other one wasn’t. It’s not every day you found out that someone who think too highly of himself would had admire a person too much that he’d started to fall madly in-love. 

Scott just couldn’t see Logan admiring someone other than himself.

“Did that answered your curiosity?” Hank asked pulling Scott out from his own thoughts.

“On the contrary,” he said, pilling up the books and cleaning up the table, “It just gave me a lot of questions.”

* * *

This time it wasn’t Scott’s idea, it was Marie’s.

After fixing the clogged up drain on the third floor restroom, she had asked him if he could help her study about their recent trigonometry lesson at the den. No one had ever asked him help about studies before, Kurt once said it has something to do about being worse than Hank when it comes to teaching math and that students prefer not to have their brains melted.

A student became two, and two became three, the next thing Scott knew, he was teaching Marie, Kitty, Bobby and Jubilee about trigonometric functions. Logan had oddly joined them with a reasoning that Rogue had pulled him out of his room and said that they’ll have a nice drink. He didn’t thought that the drink was lemonade, Logan had an ugly scowl plastered on his face the whole time.

“You do know if you consider her age, it’s easy to identify that she’s just fooling you,” Scott told him.

“I _know_. I realized that just now.” He grouched.

Maybe it was him, but Scott felt like Logan’s been watching him, not the kind of stare where you try to understand the lesson being taught. But the kind of stare where you just _look_. Whenever Scott tried to look at the other man’s way, he would always see him looking anywhere but him. It felt like as if his mind was making things up.

It wasn’t after the second activity did Scott noticed Logan looking a little stiff, swallowing every now and then as if trying to prevent something to break out of his mouth. He was lucky that the kids were too busy answering the questions Scott gave them to notice his odd behaviour. It didn’t took a moment before Logan excused himself by using the bathroom before bolting out the area.

Scott told them to continue on answering and that he’d expect for all of them to be finished when he gets back before standing up to follow Logan. He caught sight of the other guy in an empty hallway, on his knees, gripping a side table while trying to prevent himself from coughing too loud. Scott immediately went for his aid, trying to make him take a long breath but found himself being shoved away by a rough hand.

“I’m trying to help you, you insolent jerk!” Scott snapped.

Logan wasn’t able to reply as he went down on all fours trying to heave something big out. Annoyed and frustrated, Logan opened his mouth and inserted his fist, trying to grab hold of something deep inside his throat. When his right eye flinched, Logan slowly tried pulling his hand away, saliva and blood coming out of his mouth, trailing down his chin while he gag and choked. With one hard and final yank, Logan had managed to pull out a fully bloomed Red Carnation flower out of his mouth.

Logan heaved and tried catching his breath while his healing factor fixed up the damage inside his throat. He spat the remaining blood on the floor in which Scott mentally added to the list of things he’ll be cleaning later. 

With a tired grunt, Logan sat up on his hunches while glaring down on the bright red flower he was holding, without as much as a second thought, he shrugged and placed it on a nearby vase before turning to glare at Scott, “Obviously I don’t need yer help,” he said, “Stop pestering me, One Eye.”

“Can you at least not be a dick for once?” Scott said when Logan stood up in an attempt to leave. “I’m trying here.”

“I didn’t asked you to,” the feral mutant countered before turning around to start walking away. Scott noticed how heavy he moved, as if finally realizing the weight of his adamantium coated bones. “Tell Marie I ain’t coming back to that stupid group study.” He added before he turned a corner, not even deciding to turn around and look as he told him.

Scott sat there after a number of minutes before exhaling a tired sigh. Standing up, he grab the red carnation flower and searched for the nearest trash bin. He was about to throw it away when he stopped himself and decided to look at it closely. The flower looked healthy, although it doesn’t have any roots, it could live for a couple of days.

Scott decided to buy a vase later that day right after the group study ended, he didn’t missed to hear the students discussing if Logan somehow liked somebody because he oddly smell nice, like flowers.

* * *

Another sleepless night came, and when Scott came down to the kitchen to see Logan eating another sandwich, he concluded the older man either can’t sleep because of nightmares or its one of the many symptoms. 

They acknowledged each other with a slight nod before returning on minding their own business. Scott contemplated for a while before deciding to boil a liter of water. He saw in the internet how to brew it and read somewhere in the library that chamomile tea could also be a temporary remedy for Hanahaki, it doesn’t help diminish the flowers, but it slows its growth.

“The fuck is this?” Logan asked when Scott placed a stainless water bottle in front of him.

“Chamomile tea,” he informed him, “It’s a kind of herb that is brewed for centuries as a natural remedy, it helps for several health conditions, one of which—”

“I ain’t asking for the whole damn wikipedia definition, Slim,” Logan groaned, “I just wanna know why the fuck did you gave this to me?”

“I’ve heard a couple of students discussing about your recent floral scent,” Scott explained taking the same seat across from the feral mutant, “And I’ve read somewhere that chamomile tea helps slows down the growth of the flowers and hides their scent—what are you doing?” he asked as soon as he noticed Logan standing up and walking towards the sink.

The older man didn’t said anything, he only opened the lid and dumped the whole tea down the drain before discarding the bottled with a loud clank. “Listen, Slim,” he started turning around to face Scott, “I don’t need yer help, I don’t want yer help. Simple as that.” He said, “Why don’t ya drill that shit inside yer fuckin’ stubborn head, yeah?”

Logan didn’t wait for Scott’s reply, he just marched out of the room with a scowl printed across his face. 

The fearless leader was silent for a minute before deciding to pull out a newly purchased box of Chamomile Tea from his pocket. It wasn’t easy finding a good quality one, it would be a waste if he just threw it away. Standing up, Scott grabbed a sticky note and wrote Logan’s name on it before sticking the paper on the box.

* * *

It wasn’t long before Scott’s own vase of red carnation flowers became too crowded to have space for a new batch. After long hours of looking in the storage room, Scott found a decent side table and placed it on the second floor hallway. He went back to his room to grab his vase and came out only to see Munroe eyeing a flower holder filled with what looked like Irises.

When Scott walked closer, he noticed that Ororo was looking at a familiar dark flower that must've looked completely out of place in a vase filled with blue ones. Pressing his lips together, Scott reached a hesitant hand and grabbed the only different flower before pulling it out and cramming it in his over-flowing vase.

Ororo gave him a calculating stare after noticing the vase he was holding, “Since when did you take sudden interest on flowers?”

“I just thought it would be nice to have this on the hallway,” he reasoned, “It looks pretty don’t you think?” when Ororo doesn’t seem to buy it, Scott added “Just like Jean’s hair.” Luckily, it worked, but it won’t be long before it loses its effect. 

"And you know it's red because?"

Scott swallowed, "Hank told me."

She gave him a long meaningful stare before exhaling a sigh through her nose, “You’re behaving strangely these past few weeks.”

“I believe, and according from the students, I’ve always been strange.”

Ororo looked at him, “This is different,” she deadpanned.

This time Scott didn’t bothered to manage a reply, he just turned and went down the stairs.

* * *

Scott was browsing through the internet inside the library when he came across an article about an old case of Hanahaki disease. It was dated back then in the eighties that a woman in her mid-forties had died from Hanahaki by trying to cough out a fully bloomed Aster flower, _love of variety_.

It was noted, even on every medical books, that it was the last stage before death. 

And Logan’s way passed the last stage. Scott had no idea what comes next after that, they’ve been walking blindly ever since the last couple of days. Biting his lower lip, he typed for possible theories on how to cure Hanahaki, it was after all the 21st century, maybe he could test his luck and find a way to cure it. Everything would have been easier if Hank was here to help him.

After skimming through a couple of useless studies about Hanahaki or anything that involves even a bit about flowers, Scott didn’t noticed himself nodding off and falling fast asleep on the desk, a pen on his hand and a sentence half finished. He woke up hours later because of his aching neck only to find himself being covered up with a warm thick blanket.

Scott looked around as if to search for the person that help him to kept warm, who was obviously long gone basing from how deserted the room looked. His eyebrows furrowed down while he looked at the blanket, Scott felt like he saw this somewhere, he just couldn’t seem to pin point where. Scott looked up and noticed that the computer was turned off, he cursed under his breath.

Due to Hank’s tendencies on meddling in, Scott recently found himself going incognito whenever he uses the library computer, meaning, most of the sites he searched was likely gone and wouldn’t be found in the history. 

Rubbing his nape, Scott concluded on calling it a night before standing up to fix his things, folding the blanket neatly into six folds and tucking it under his right armpit. Scott got out of the library and walked down the hallway when he noticed that the television at the den was turned on.

He poked his head inside to see Logan sitting on the sofa while watching a hockey game, a beer in hand. He noticed how the guy seem to let out a strangled cough every now and then, as if trying to prevent from spewing something out of his mouth.

Standing there, watching silently from behind, Scott wondered on what kind of woman was he in-love with, how did Logan thought of having her was impossible when the only lady he never got to win was Jean. Scott never heard of any fling that Logan would have in the past two years, the guy was surprisingly laying low and hasn’t left the mansion in search of a girlfriend ever since her death.

Scott didn’t want to admit it at first, but back when he was still grieving, Logan had busied himself by helping rebuilt the school and covering most of Scott’s missed out classes. An act he’d never thought of seeing the Wolverine would do, especially when the guy completely sucked in math. Two years wasn’t enough for Logan to have feelings on a certain someone, not when he used majority of his time for the school and the team.

“Who’s the girl?” Scott found himself asking, his shoulder leaned against the door frame.

Logan turned and audibly groaned when he saw that it was Summers, he rolled his eyes before choosing to ignore him and returned his attention back on watching the game.

“Maybe we could find a way for her to reciprocate her feelings for you,” Scott continued, taking a step closer as he talk, “There were cases that Hanahaki sometimes happens when the patient assumes that the person he or she loves won’t be able to return the feelings.” He informed him.

“Ya fuckin’ don’t know when to stop do ya?” Logan growled but Scott ignored the threat.

“Maybe if you would be able to inform me about her, I could find a way to— Where are you going?” he asked as soon as he noticed Logan turning the television off and standing up to leave.

“Isn’t it obvious? Away from ya,” Logan replied throwing the remote on the sofa while he took a step towards the exit.

This time, Scott couldn’t stop the frustrated groan his mouth has been trying to prevent from coming out, it made the older man stop on his tracks and turn a questioning look at Summers, “I don’t care if you don’t want my help, Logan,” he started standing on his feet, “And I don’t care if I have to clean every drainage in the mansion as long as I can find a way to treat your condition. I’m your leader and I need you on my team _healthy._”

Scott didn’t know if it was working, but Logan haven’t made any move to leave the room just yet, he’d take that as a positive sign and tried to push on his luck, “I’m not doing this to annoy you, and I’m definitely not doing this for my own benefit.” He continued, “Tell me who she is and let me find a way to help you.”

Logan was silent, staring back at Scott with a blank expression. He didn’t know if the gears inside the older man’s head was turning or if he was contemplating on telling him. Logan let out a scoff before chugging down his can of beer in one go. He wiped his mouth clean before crumpling the thin metal and throwing it across the room and into a trash bin, “Who said anything about a girl?”

And then he left.


	2. Try Imagining a Guy Liking ya

Scott was laying stiffly on his bed, the words _who said anything about a girl?_ kept on replaying over and over inside his brain like a broken record player. Somehow, the knowledge that Logan’s actually _in-love_ with a guy—a male, a man, a masculine, a person with a dick— and not some cute or beautiful strong woman had made Scott feel… _odd._ The idea never crossed his head because it seemed inconceivable, something impossible. And yet here he was, lying awake on his bed because Logan being in-love with a guy was actually possible.

At first, Scott thought that it could just be a joke, a prank, or even a good lie. But after sitting down and letting himself think about it, the statement could be true. The fact that Logan had unexplainable charms that women couldn’t seem to resist was one major loophole why the feral mutant had Hanahaki, but if the beloved was a guy, the chances were actually _high_.

Somehow, the thought of Logan being much more interested on a different man had him feeling weird, disappointed, or possibly even dejected. Which was questionable since, why would he feel that? What good reason should he be disappointed? 

Maybe he was just used to the fact that back then, when he was still grieving, Logan was just always _there_; covering his classes, ordering him to take a bath, sometimes to even haul his ass off the bed just to eat breakfast. Scott wouldn’t admit it, but he was thankful for the older guy’s concerns, grateful actually.

It was childish of him to suddenly feel down just because Logan now had his attention on somebody else. It doesn’t bothered him back then when he thought it was a girl, but finding out it was of a different gender, he felt _bitter_. 

From feeling odd that somehow turned into bitterness, Scott wondered if _he_ was fine.

The sudden itch in his throat made him grunt involuntarily, it was like sandpaper grazing inside his dried esophagus. He should probably stop drinking cold water for the meantime, if his guess was right, he might be going down with a sore throat.

Turning on his right, Scott reached his hand and closed the night lamp before closing his eyes in hopes of having a good night sleep this time.

Scott visited Hank’s lab the next day right after checking on Logan if the guy somehow did another mess in an empty room, his throat was starting to bother him, even swallowing saliva felt like shards of glass scratching the insides of his neck. He found himself massaging it with his thumb every now and then, up to the point it became a hindrance when he’s discussing a lesson in a class.

He got off the elevator and marched towards Hank’s lab, he knocked twice until he heard the older mutant’s approval for his entry. Scott turned the knob and pushed the door open to enter, he found Hank hunched over his desk, scribbling notes on a couple of scratch papers.

“Busy?” Scott asked walking over towards him, hands deep inside his pockets.

“Just polishing the new simulation design for the Danger Room,” the older mutant answered without eye contact, “I’ll probably be able to start coding this later in the afternoon.” He added before scratching a huge line over a scribble of words.

“Am I disturbing you?” 

Hank leaned back and let out a deep exhale, “Not really, no,” he replied before looking up at Scott, “Do you need something?”

Scott squared his shoulders, “Just wondering if you have anything for sore throats,” he said. He got used to the fact that Jean was the one always keeping their own medical supplies, being a doctor herself. But now that she’s gone, Scott tends to forget on restocking them.

Hank pushed his chair and stood up without a word before heading towards one of his drawers. He pulled at the third layer and fished out a small circular case before throwing it at Scott who immediately catch it with ease, “No migraines this time?” the older mutant asked instead, tipping his head to the right while he watched Scott pocketed the case.

“Thankfully, none,” He replied, “I’ve been covering Logan’s classes lately, must’ve used my throat too much.” He explained, not a hundred percent sure if that was the case. 

Hank’s lips thinned but nodded as if understanding. Scott felt like he should be going, but there was a prickling feeling inside his head that he should stay for a moment, ask something or wait things out. “How’s the design going? Any objectives for team building?”

Hank raised his paw as if realizing something, “Actually, I was playing with an idea that could help that,” He said before beckoning for Scott to follow him out his lab and towards the control room, “It’s still under consideration since the case only revolves on one person.” He continued turning on a circular table, he pressed his paw down on a certain area and a hologram rose up.

A scenery of a high altitude anti-mutant base in Alaska was illustrated in front of him. The objective were simple; rescue the captive mutants and kill no one. Scott remembered completely how that mission went, “You think Logan would like this?” He finally asked, leaning down on the table to have a firm look at it.

“I doubt that.” Hank immediately replied with a snort. Logan never liked high places, this was why the Blackbird was his least favourite vehicle to ride, “But if my hunch was right, this’ll help—what the hell is he doing?” The older mutant suddenly exclaimed.

Scott turned around in time to see Hank hunched over a screen that shows the inside of the Danger Room, it perfectly shows Logan training and having the Alkali Lake as its setting. Scott found himself scrambling beside Hank when he noticed Logan crouched down on the ground, coughing furiously while blood and petals spluttered out of his mouth.

“Is this recorded?” Scott asked.

Surprised from the sudden question, Hank fumbled for the words while he pushed his glasses up “I programmed the Danger Room to record every—,”

“Delete it and close the simulation, _now_,” Scott instantly ordered, voice firm before dashing out the room and sprinting towards the doors of the Danger Room, he pushed a certain button but the words ‘X-Men Training Inside’ only showed up on the small screen, “HANK!” He yelled smashing the button.

With a sudden breath of relief, the machine made a small beep before the slow hiss of the doors resonated indicating that it was opening. Scott found himself pushing it farther to enter immediately before running directly at the bulky man crouched down on the floor, his fist inside his mouth as if trying to pull out another fully bloomed flower.

“Let me,” Scott found himself suddenly suggesting. Logan wheezed and cough before giving him glare, “My hands are smaller,” he argued reasonably, “Let _me_.”

Logan couldn’t answer, so with his free hand, he pushed Scott away rather harsher than before that caused the younger man to lose his balance and tumble down on the clean floor. Scott immediately pushed himself up and was about to open his mouth to argue when the older man successfully pulled out the fully bloomed red carnation.

And Hank entered just in time to witness it.

Throwing the flower on the ground, Logan pushed up and leaned back to sit on his bottom before taking in a deep breath, eyes momentarily looking at Scott before travelling to look at the recent arrival, “Put a stethoscope on me, I’ll shave all yer fur off.” Logan threatened.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Hank replied before looking at Scott who was kneeling on the ground, one knee raised up and a hand on the ground for support, “Red Carnation,” he said taking a good look at the flowers on the floor, “You said it was an article.” He added.

Scott exhaled a tired sigh before pushing himself up, he lent out his hand for Logan to take but the older man only slapped it away and stood up on his own, “I feel like Logan would want his privacy.” He replied.

“And I like to keep it that way,” Logan informed, glaring at Hank while he wiped his bloodied hands on his jeans. He was about to take a step away when Hank held a firm grip on the feral mutant’s shoulder to refrain him from leaving. Logan stared at the paw holding him before looking back up at Hank’s face, a scowl plastered evidently on it.

“In my lab, now.” Hank ordered, “I’m not taking no as an answer.” He added when Logan growled.

They stared for a couple of seconds before Logan roughly shook his shoulder off and started heading towards the exit. Scott watched as the older mutant left, a sudden wave of relief when he turned right knowing that he’s heading towards Hank’s lab. Scott exhaled and ran a hand through his hair while looking down on his shoes.

“Imagine how many times I’ve tried to inform you about this,” He said.

“My rough guess is many,” Hank replied, pocketing his paws inside his lab coat before he started walking, Scott followed right after, “For how long?”

“I don’t know,” the younger man replied, “But if you’re asking for how long I’ve known, I’d say about a month.” He informed him.

“I’m surprised he managed to hide it for this long,” Hank said before stopping to look at him, “Does he even know how severe his case is?” he asked, voice sounding suddenly stressed, as if the idea of Logan hacking up flowers had finally registered inside his head. 

“I don’t think so,” Scott replied, “He didn’t even know he’s sick when I found out, I spent a whole night telling him about the basic facts, and I feel like he’s only taking it lightly knowing that he has healing factor.” 

“How’s that going so far?”

Scott remembered Logan’s sluggish move on every training, his constant choice of being alone, fear of others that might find out, and not to mention Logan’s been coughing more and more petals as weeks pass by, “Not good. He looked like he’s trying to win a losing battle.”

“That’s not new,” Hank said with an exhale before he resumed on walking, “If my hunch was right, no books can help us now.”

* * *

A couple of moments and one pill for sore throat later, Scott and Logan are looking at what seemed to be the scan of Logan’s lungs. If Scott hadn’t known better, one look and he would have assumed that the pair of lungs was a vase that was intentionally shaped like lungs. Roots and stems were coated everywhere and the small bulbs of flowers were situated at the topmost part, right under the pharynx.

“Ya sure ya didn’t photoshopped this shit?” Logan asked with a blank expression on his face, eyes staring firmly on the screen.

“Positive,” Hank replied, “And this,” he said while clicking a button on his keyboard “is your heart,” he informed them when a picture of a heart was shown at the screen, coated with thick roots and veins. There were no signs of any small bulbs of flowers anywhere.

“I thought this shit only grows inside my lungs?” Logan asked turning to look at Hank.

“It _originally_ develops in the lungs,” he told him, “Well, surely you’re aware that roots _grow_, and basing from what Scott had informed me, you’ve been nourishing this plant for more than a month, thus resulting the roots around your heart, soon, probably your ribcage. It’s actually a miracle it’s still able to pump, with the lack of space, and all.”

Logan was silent before leaning back to straighten himself up. 

Hank stared at him, waiting for some sort of reaction but the older man only gave one last look at the scan before scratching his jaw, “Well then, if this shit’s finally settled, mind if I leave now?”

Scott, who was silent the whole time had immediately stood up, his mouth was formed into a thin line, “You do know that this is a severe case, _you_ have a severe case.”

Logan cocked an eyebrow, “Yeah, so?”

“_So?_” Scott repeated, his anger slowly taking its peak, “Do I have to drill inside your hard adamantium head that you can’t heal from this. You can heal your throat, you can heal your tonsils, but your healing factor can’t remove those roots inside your lungs.” He said, pressing a finger on Logan’s chest as if threatening him.

Logan slapped Scott’s finger away and crossed his arms over his chest, as if casing a barrier, “Al’right,” he said, “What’d’ya want me to do? Sit down and talk about feelings? Talk about my _beloved_?” He asked mockingly, “Is that gonna help? Cuz far as I know, ya told me that no one managed to find a damn cure for this yet.”

“Then let me and Hank find a way.” Scott seethed.

“Okay, good, any idea how?” he asked angling his right ear in front of Scott as if waiting for an answer.

Scott was silent, gripping his hands into fists, he couldn’t utter a single word out of his mouth. 

“Thought so,” Logan replied leaning back, “Lemme make this whole shit clear, I don’t need yer help, and I don’t want yer help. So mind yer own damn business, got that?” he gritted, “Now if ya’ll excuse me, I want a drink.” He announced before shoving Scott away to leave.

Scott swallowed up involuntarily when he felt the uncomfortable itch inside his throat. Grunting, he ran a hand through his hair before returning his attention back on the screen, analysing the image, “Any estimations before the roots start surrounding his ribcage?” He asked Hank instead.

Hank only pushed his glasses closer to his eyes, “These roots,” He said pointing at the small end of the veins that are starting to crawl up and away from the heart, “—Are already climbing out to start curling around his bones, considering that Hanahaki flowers grows faster depending on the situation, my guess is two to three days.”

Scott let out an exasperated exhale before nodding, he could feel his head starting to throb, “Any hunch on what it could cause?”

“Considering that what we’re entering is a new territory,” Hank said pocketing his paws inside his coat, “No, I don’t. I guess the only option was to wait.”

Scott put the statement under consideration. 

Waiting and doing nothing could only worsen Logan’s state. Healing factor or not, there’s no guarantee that Logan wouldn’t die, his case would only aggravate until they reached the part where Logan’s body couldn’t handle it anymore. Scott has no plans of _waiting_.

Without hesitation, he moved towards a different computer and started typing, clicking the sites he found that could help them, “Chamomile tea could help slower down the growth of the flowers, maybe if we could make a thorough research and a couple of experimentations, we could come up with a decent treatment.” He told Hank while opening another tab to type a new website.

Hank took a step and stood behind him, “There’s already a study about that, Scott,” he reminded him, “We both know it turned out futile.”

“Yes, but with machinery like ours, we could turn that into fruitful,” Scott argued, “That study had been years ago, Hank, technology is different now.”

Hank was silent for a moment, watching him scroll through websites and clicking on various kinds of links. He let out an exhale before closing the scan on his computer to open a webpage to start a research of his own, “If we’re doing this, I’m going to have to put the Danger Room upgrades aside.” He told him.

“That could be settled,” Scott replied instantly.

There was a moment of silence, the sound of their keyboards resonating the room until the younger man heard the blue mutant stop from typing, he turned around to see Hank looking far off, “Who’s the girl?” he asked, not at all minding to make eye contact.

Scott bit his inner cheek, “He didn’t told me, doesn’t want anybody to know.” He replied, refraining to tell the older mutant that it wasn’t a girl. Scott didn’t know if he has the right to tell him that yet.

Hank raised his head to look at him, “You seemed to be very invested on someone, who I last check, tried to steal your wife.” He reminded him, there was no judgement there, no heat behind the words, only curiosity. Scott knew that Hank doesn’t like nor hate Logan, just a neutral standing. But Scott’s dislike on the feral mutant was common knowledge, and for him to act like this, it’s not something you’d expect to witness.

“He’s an X-man,” Scott reasoned, “He’s a valuable asset just as everyone else in the team.”

* * *

Once Hank found out, it snowballed from there.

Ever since Scott’s schedule started to cram up because of the added activity he had with Hank, trying to keep an eye on Logan ha became harder for him to handle. In result, Kitty had walked in on Logan in the music room while he hacks up a couple of flower petals and spit out blood. Scott had managed to reach the scene in a panting mess and tried to tell Kitty’s horrified face to take a deep breath and calm down.

She didn’t, however. Instead, she ran and passed through the opposite wall giving no option for Scott to follow her.

The next morning, just right after leaving his room to head on his first class, Scott found himself being pinned against the wall with Logan’s arm crushing his neck. “Ya told Marie?” He growled.

Scott was holding Logan’s arm, trying to push him away when ge felt his throat tighten and itch. He tipped his head back and smashed it on the older man’s head, it was a stupid counter attack since bones against the strongest metal on earth was a losing battle.

His head throbbed but it lessened Logan’s hold giving him the chance to push the older man away. Scott rubbed his throat while grunting before releasing a short and controlled cough, “I didn’t,” he simply said, hissing when he touched a part of his neck that somehow made him feel a scratch in his throat.

It was probably just his imagination, but there was a fleeting moment where Logan’s expression became concerned before turning into his default scowl, “Then how the fuck does she know? Did Furball told her?”

Scott hunched over to pick up his scattered stuff before standing back up with a huff, “Hank knows when to respect someone’s privacy,” he defended, “I should remind you that Kitty witnessed your little stunt yesterday and I haven’t managed to talk to her ever since she ran off.”

“Fuckin’ damn it,” Logan exclaimed running a hand across his face, he let out a husky exhale before turning to look at Scott, noticing how the fearless leader seem to rub his neck over and over again “Ya okay?”

The younger man raised an eyebrow, “You’re seriously asking me if I’m okay when you just did _that_?”

Logan scowled at him, “Whatever,” he said before turning around to leave, his movement was evidently sluggish just from watching him from behind. 

Since then, news about Logan’s Hanahaki spread like wildfire. Ororo came up to him one afternoon in the kitchen, while Scott’s taking a medicine for his worsening throat, and confronted him if the rumours were true. Scott didn’t said anything but a short nod made the weather goddess curse under her breath.

“For how long?” She asked.

“I’ve known for more than a month,” Scott replied, “Hank and I are already working on it.” He informed her.

Ororo ran a hand through her winter white hair, “That explains a lot,” She muttered, “How’s he doing so far?”

Scott leaned back on the counter, “Not good,” he replied.

After their discussion, Ororo stopped wondering about the uncoordinated cluster of flowers on each and every vases in the hallway. But it didn’t stopped him from buying another one to collect and place the red carnations in it, asking the passing students if it was red when he came across a different color of carnation flowers.

Scott woke up one morning having a hard time breathing, as if there was something clogging and scratching up his air passage. Sitting up, he pressed a fist on chest and tried to clear his throat by grunting and swallowing. It took him a couple of tries when he felt that he could breathe normally again, his chest had turned a tinge of red from the countless impact of his fist.

Sparing a look at his bedside clock and seeing that it was just an hour early before he usually wakes up, Scott got off the bed and started his mourning routine. He made a short pit-stop on Hank’s lab to discuss if there were any new findings before asking if he have medicine for coughs.

Hank gave him a calculating look before giving him what he needed, he didn’t asked nor said anything after that.

Glancing at his wristwatch, Scott told him he’ll be back after school hours before stepping out the lab and taking the elevator to head towards his first class but not before asking Marie if she saw Logan. Checking on the older man first was now part of his routine, something that Scott didn’t expect himself doing if he was asked back then.

There were times where Scott found himself wondering, _who was the guy?_, he couldn’t make a list nor pick out the male residents in the mansion since he didn’t know what Logan’s type is. Just from imaging Logan having feelings for Piotr or Kurt made him grimaced, as if the mere image of it would put him in an uncomfortable situation.

It’s not that he’s against it, Scott just couldn’t seem to grasp the idea of it. That Logan liking anyone in the mansion was preposterous.

In the midst of teaching his class, Scott found himself thinking of how Logan would rather endure the flowers growing torturously inside his lungs than tell anyone of how he feels, that he would rather shut his mouth and push away everyone around him. What kind of person was Logan in love with to have the guy choose nothing but to hide everything?

_I hope he’s worth it._

The first cough that left his mouth was the start of many. 

Scott found himself balancing himself by placing a hand on the board while he tried to supress the coughing fit that he kept on releasing, up to the point that his throat had gone painfully sore and dry. 

The students started to murmur while Scott managed to trudge towards his desk and open the case that Hank gave him just this morning. He didn’t hesitated to pop in a pill without drinking any water, sitting down on his chair, Scott tried to take a couple of deep breaths as he waits for medicine to kick in.

By the time he’d managed to catch his breath, every student was looking at him either with concerned or curious expressions. Clearing his throat, Scott stood up and returned on his lesson as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Scott was eating dinner alone in the kitchen after forgetting to check at the clock when he was going through a cluster of quiz papers. He was supposed to hand it out earlier this morning but his mind was occupied with other stuff, he reminded himself that he also have other duties as a teacher.

He was reading a book about a theory of curing Hanahaki Disease base of the flowers that the patient grows while taking a huge bite on his sandwich. So far, after thoroughly reading through twenty-eight pages, the book wasn’t pointing out anything helpful, but he was too early to judge on that.

Scott was about to take another huge bite when Logan decided to stepped in, scratching his jaw and looking tired as if he just woke up. 

They stared at each other in silence with the older man looking at him, probably silently judging, while his mouth was opened widely, his sandwich was a hairline away from entering his mouth. 

“Ya better shut yer mouth if ya don’t want a bee entering.” Logan told him before sauntering his way towards the fridge to fish out a bottle of beer.

Scott could feel his own mouth frowning, “Don’t you think it’s better if you start watching the food you eat?” he suggested, “Now that your healing factor’s not working like it used to.” He added reminding him of that short instance where Logan had received a gash on his forehead while in a team training, it took longer than usual for it to heal, much to Hanks fascination and everyone’s concern.

“Don’tcha think ya should’a be more concerned on yer own health first before ya started meddling on mine?” Logan retorted, opening the bottled with his hand and started chugging it down his throat. Scott wondered how the liquid flows inside if roots and veins are clogging the passageway, he chose not to imagine it.

“I could live with a simple cough, Logan,” Scott countered standing up and walking towards the older man to snatch the beer away, Logan glared daggers at him, “Your body on the other hand is already going through a lot, the least you could do is to try and not to add burden to it.”

Logan tried to snatch the bottle away but Scott had already thrown it out of the nearby window. A faint sound of a bottle crashing on the ground was heard. Logan‘s stare was menacing but it did nothing to faze him.

“Why do ya care so much?” The older man asked turning around to grab a left over pizza from the fridge. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but Scott felt like the question has something more into it.

“I’m your leader,” Scott reasoned, “The well-being of my teammates will always be my priority.”

Logan snorted, “Then I quit,” he exclaimed.

“You’re not quitting.”

“I just did, Slim,” He said pulling out a plate from the cupboard, “If the only reason for ya to actually care for a person was just because of being an X-man, then I’d rather pass that up ‘cuz this whole thing is bullshit, ya make sick, did ya know that?” 

And Scott wanted to ask why did he stayed, why Logan helped built the mansion? For the kids? Could be. But how could he answer those days where he would give the effort to check up on Scott if he ate, if he took a bath? Those days where Logan would cover for his class when he couldn’t?

But Scott was too preoccupied with the small flower growing by the crook of Logan’s neck, watching how it pushes itself out and bloom into a small red carnation, “Logan,” he called instead, the older man must’ve felt the uneasiness in his voice that made him turn around and look, “Has that always been on your shoulder?”

Logan tipped his head and noticed the small flower that was stuck on his skin, he grabbed the stem and yanked it out, pulling out the roots and a couple of few flesh along with it. Logan gritted his teeth from the pain and threw the plant on the sink.

“In Hank’s lab.” Scott found himself ordering, “Now.”

* * *

Scott was staring at the x-ray scan of Logan’s ribcage, the bones were almost coated with roots and thick veins, some of it were already crawling through the flesh as if trying to pass through Logan’s barrier of thick skin.

“You’re getting way worse,” Hank told them before clicking a button on his keyboard, switching the image into what supposed to be Logan’s heart but the thick veins that were coated around it made it looked like a ball of roots, “My theory is that your healing factor was too preoccupied fixing your heart to consider simple flesh wounds, making it longer for the outer injury to close up.” He said indicating on Logan’s shoulder that was still in the middle of stitching up the skin.

“This is bullshit,” The older said, “How the fuck is my ribs already filled with that shit when it has only been two weeks when ya did yer stupid check-up.”

“Maybe if you would have listened to me, then this wouldn’t have to happen.” Scott told him from across the room, pacing back and forth after seeing the scans with only one look.

Logan snapped his head to scowl at the younger man, “And ya really think that yer yammering could help the situation?”

Scott glared at him and was about to open his mouth to argue back when Hank spoke up before the situation gets any worse, “Hanahaki flowers feeds off from the hormonal release of your brain that triggers—”

“English, Bub,” Logan growled.

“_Feelings_, Logan,” Hank told him sounding exasperated, “Hanahaki flowers grows depending on your feelings, if you somehow spent the past few days moping in your room and feeling broken hearted because your beloved rejected you, then expect the flowers to grow faster.” He deadpanned.

“I don’t mope.” Was the older man’s reply, “And he didn’t rejected me.”

There was a beat of silence where Hank had to close his mouth from the sudden information.

“_He?_” He repeated.

The grim expression on Logan’s face told Scott that he didn’t took Hank’s reaction positively, “Yeah, _he_. Laugh all ya want, Bub,” he said with his voice seething, “Must’ve been the stupidest thing ya’ve ever heard.”

“No, just,” Hank said suddenly fumbling for the right words before settling his paws inside his pockets, “Just, unexpected,” he explained, “But also makes a lot of sense.”

Logan snorted.

With an exhale, Scott walked towards them and placed the book he was reading earlier on Hank’s desk. Both men looked at it for second before Hank decided to pick it up, “I did some light reading,” Scott told them, “There’s a section in the tenth page about patients assuming rejection.”

“Ya call this light?” Logan asked him instead.

Scott stared at him with a blank expression, not bothering to give a reply that could probably start a new argument. Hank flipped a couple of pages before skimming through the wall of words printed on it, “Could be possible,” he said, “But the chances aren’t high.”

“Estimation?” Scott asked.

“Undetermined,” He replied, closing the book and placing it neatly on his desk, “Especially since we both know that Logan doesn’t participate wholly on this.” He explained looking over at the older man as if to impart a message.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest, “What’d’ya want me to do?”

Scott leaned back on Hank’s desk, hands deep inside his pockets, “To inform us about his identity,” he replied flatly, as if the question itself wasn’t asking a lot from the guy. Logan stared at him, “Look, you said so yourself, you weren’t rejected, meaning you assumed the rejection. If somehow we could find a way for the guy to at least reciprocate the feelings, even if the possibility’s unsure—”

“Shut up,” Logan snapped.

“Look, I’m not trying to meddle in your privacy.” 

“Ya sure look like it.”

“We’re trying all the possibilities to fix this, Logan.”

“And I’m telling ya that knowing his name ain’t gonna help anything,” Logan almost yelled before pointing a rough finger on his chest, “I have this fucking flowers growing because I know he won’t reciprocate shit.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Yer straight,” He said, “Try imagining a guy liking ya. How would ya feel?”

Scott went silent.

Not because he find the idea revolting nor disgusting, but because he found it rather the opposite. That if a guy _did_ liked him and _did_ tried to pursue him, he wouldn’t be disgusted. Scott never tried to play with the idea since he had Jean back then, why would he have to think of a relationship that was likely to happen when he’s already in a strong one? But now that the concept was out in the open again, Scott had somehow found himself at loss of words.

His silence must’ve sent a different message for Logan. 

The older man scoffed bitterly, “Thought so,” he said before taking a seat on one of Hank’s visitor chairs.

Scott ran a frustrated hand across his hair. Things would have been easier if Logan would cooperate like Scott would want him to, it’s a futile wish, but he’s been hoping for it since Logan joined the team. It didn’t happened before, why would it happen now? 

“Logan, I _need_ you in the team,” Scott said, surprising himself that it was the complete truth. The older man turned and looked at him, his expression gave no sign of anything, just a blank slate.

Logan didn’t said anything, his lips were formed into a thin line with his arms crossed over his chest, as if contemplating or thinking deeply. Knowing him, that rarely happens. A moment had passed before he exhaled through his nostrils. “Everything just gotta be ‘bout the team,” He muttered before turning his chair to completely face them.

His action didn’t tell him much, but that was the closest acknowledgement he got from the older man.

* * *

Nothing much changed after that.

Scott would still try and insert some extra time to check on Logan. Even if most of the students are already aware about the feral mutant’s state, Scott still assumes that it’s his job to look over the guy. Logan’s the closest right hand he got and might probably be the most valuable asset to him. As his leader, it’s his job to look after his members.

Sometimes, Scott would feel that being the leader was just his reason, and he would just sit down in his office and wonder for what kind reason.

Scott couldn’t really guarantee they—Hank and him—had Logan’s whole cooperation. It was glad to know that the feral mutant had somehow stopped on trying to push them away, but he wasn’t also really enthusiastic to spend most of his time in Hank’s lab, watching them undergo a research and ask him questions that he already answered repeatedly. He does answer everything, but he would keep his mouth shut if the question somehow strayed anywhere near close to person who started all of this.

It was evident that Logan didn’t want him to get mixed up in the problem, it was as if he was trying to protect him. A discovery that Scott found… _abhorrent_.

Scott would sometimes assume that maybe it was just his imagination, that Logan looking at his way was just his mind playing tricks on him, but after one sleepless night of fixing the grades of his students by the den, Scott had caught Logan staring at him. He was positive that it wasn’t just his imagination, that Logan looking at his way was real all this time.

Maybe Logan didn’t know that he was staring, maybe he was just thinking deeply and somehow had his face angled towards him, but whenever Scott moves to a different spot, Logan’s eyes were always on him, _always_.

Scott didn’t know what it meant, but he was hoping that it’s far from judgment.

It wasn’t long before he found himself wondering about _him_, was he young? Old? Was he living in the mansion? A student? One of the teachers? Maybe a guy in the bar or a simple person living a normal life, not knowing that because of him, the person who’s supposed to be unkillable is dying.

Scott wanted to make a list, jot down the possible male candidates, but he usually found himself with a blank paper, not wanting to write any names. Munroe found him one afternoon in his office staring blankly on his scratch paper, holding a pen as if he was about to consider writing a decent and reasonable name.

“How’s the flu going?” She ask pulling Scott out from his trance.

He cleared his throat, “It’s not a flu,” he defended, denying the fact that he somehow got sick when his routine’s mostly about keeping his health in check, “I’ve just been using my throat too much.”

Honestly, Scott had started to consider taking the prescriptions that Hank gave him as his routine, assuming that it was just a simple sore throat. But after a couple of days and finding out that it had only gotten worse, Scott decided to ignore it for the matter especially when there are much more important things to consider.

“Mmm hmm,” She hummed while taking a step inside, Scott automatically hid the blank paper as if it had something important written on it.

“Do you need something?” He asked instead.

Ororo was hesitant at first but she shook her head and sat on an extra chair, “Marie had recently confronted me about Logan’s situation.”

Scott can’t say that he wasn’t expecting it, Logan’s relationship with Marie was something that he found admiring, considering that the guy’s personality doesn’t really attracts as friendly. She must’ve been the only person that Logan—

Behind the ruby quartz glasses, Scott’s eyes widened, “When?”

“Just now,” She replied, surprised from the other man’s sudden eagerness.

Without saying anything, Scott got up and left the room, he marched down the hallway until he saw the familiar brunette girl with a strip of white hair by the front. She was talking to Bobby in front of their recently finished class.

“Marie,” he called earning the younger mutant’s attention, “Can I have a word? Privately.” He added the last part by looking at Drake as if silently telling him to leave.

Bobby didn’t have to be told twice, shoulders squared and pocketing both hands, he started to back track and left the two alone, giving them the privacy that Scott may or may not had demanded. Once Bobby was out of earshot, he didn’t decide to beat around the bush.

“Please consider this reasonable,” He said, “But I think you’re the only person that Logan might’ve told about the person he admires.” Marie stared at him, unconsciously gripping the pile of books she was carrying, “I completely understand if you have no plans of telling me,” he found himself immediately adding.

“No, it’s fine,” She replied jolting up, “Mr. Mccoy already asked me yesterday.”

_Typical of him_.

“And?”

Marie exhaled, “And no, I don’t know,” she answered making Scott feel like he was back to square one, “Logan never shares stuff with me, I didn’t even know he likes somebody else other than…” Her voice suddenly lowered down and her feet shuffled uncomfortably, “Ms— Ms. Grey.” She finally said. 

Scott realized that even after months had past, everyone would still walk on eggshells around him whenever the topic about his dead wife arises.

“At least a name that would pop out first?” He tried instead.

Marie was silent for a moment, biting her lip with her eyebrows furrowed, thinking deeply before subtly blinking as if to realize something. Scott knew she had someone in mind, but a minute had passed with her eyes only staring at him, presumably contemplating, she shook her head and said, “No one.”

Scott let out an exhale and ran a hand through his hair. He knew there was someone, a name that Rogue had considered.

“I’m sorry,” She apologized.

“It’s fine,” he automatically replied.

Scott left when he felt the first itch in his throat.

* * *

It was late at night when Scott decided to hit the hay. Leaving the library while closing the lights as he went, Scott was scratching his nape when he notice a faint light by the den. He didn’t hesitate to enter the room knowing that it was probably just Logan, watching another recorded hockey game.

Scott saw the older man sitting by the sofa with the television on, he had his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed down as if sleeping. When he got nearer, he noticed three fully bloomed flowers had grown on both of his biceps and blood tainted petals where pooled by his lap and feet smearing the carpet.

Scott felt something clogged up his throat and he swallowed it down, assuming that it was a cough threatening to come out. 

He reached out his hand to grab Logan’s shoulder and slowly tried shaking him awake, “Logan,” he called, but the older man didn’t moved a muscle, “Logan,” he called again, this time shaking him harder. Logan’s head only lolled like a puppet without strings.

That’s when Scott started to get alarmed, he placed both hands on both of his shoulder and shook him violently, “Logan!” he called but just like his other few attempts, he didn’t budge, he wasn’t moving, his body was stiff and Scott noticed the lack of air that was passing through his nostrils. It was as if Logan’s no longer breathing, “Logan wake up!” he yelled shaking him furiously.

The first jolt and intake of air that the older man did had given different kinds of relief flood through Scott’s veins.

“The hell are ya doing?” Logan asked instead after noticing the other man’s hands were placed firmly on his shoulder.

Slowly, Scott let go and stood back up, “You weren’t waking up,” he informed him, “I thought you were sleeping and was supposed to order you to go back to your room.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“I know,” then there was silence, long uncomfortable silence that stretched between them. Scott took a breath and felt the scratches inside his throat that threatens to turn into another fitful of coughs. He swallowed it down to prevent it, “You just died.” He announced.

Logan snorted, “Shouldn’t ya be happy?"

Scott didn’t noticed himself gripping his hands into a tight fist, “Do I look like I’m happy?”

The older man shrugged, “Ya never had any expression on yer face other than a blank one, how should I know?”

Scott exhaled a tired breath through his nose, “Contrary to popular beliefs, you might be a complete pain in my ass, but the last thing I wanted is a valuable member dead.”

Logan scoffed bitterly, “Ya just gotta make everything ‘bout the team, don’tcha?”

“Everything _is_ about the team.” 

The older man stood up, dark petals falling off from his lap, “Ya see that’s the thing, this whole shit annoys the fuck out of me because ya just wanted the team perfect again. Ya just think that everyone is an object and not a person.”

“My outlook on the X-Men doesn’t have anything to do with your condition, Logan.”

“It has everything to do with it!” The older man snapped, teeth baring and hands clenching hard with those metal claws threatening to be popped out.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, eyebrows furrowed.

As if realizing what he just said, Logan stepped back, “Nothin’, it meant nothin’.” He growled before turning around and start marching out of the room.

Logan was about to reach the hallway when Scott found himself opening his mouth, unable to stop the words from coming out of his lips, “Who is he, Logan?” he asked but the feral mutant didn’t said anything, “Do you really love him that much to protect his identity for this long?” it was off topic, but he realized just now that he wanted to ask the question for so long.

Logan was silent for a moment, his back facing the younger man, “Yeah,” he replied before leaving the room completely, marching down the hall until he couldn’t hear him anymore. It was almost a whisper, but Scott heard it loud and clear.

It was in an instant.

Scott found himself on the floor, choking back air, holding his throat as if it was threatening to come out. It felt like burning, the itch was now like knives scratching the insides of his throat. Tears of pain started to expel from his eyes. Scott found himself having a hard time breathing, air was leaving his lungs as something big clog up his air passage.

Gripping his hand and punching a fist on the floor, Scott tried to take in a breath but his throat contracted and found himself writhing on the ground. Gripping the carpet, he hacked up and punched his chest while trying to take a deep and husky breath. 

He felt something inside unclog and the first drop of petal left his mouth.


	3. It's Not Contagious, I Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late update, here's a long chapter as a form of apology.

He was staring.

As soon as he finally got his breathing intact, Scott was left gazing at the lightly colored petal that supposedly came out of his mouth, coated with thick saliva as it perched quietly on the rug along with the dark carnation petals that came originally from Logan. 

Hands shaking, he pushed himself up and found that his knees were made of jell-o before dropping his ass down on the rug. He took a deep breath and counted one to three before forcing his legs to work. Using the coffee table for support, Scott stood up and swayed a little before waiting for his body to recover, he blinked and shook his head when he felt dizzy. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose before huffing out a sigh, as if trying to tell himself that he’s now fine.

Scott stayed there for a moment, as if waiting for something, before turning around to grab a broom and clean the mess that the feral mutant had made. As he brushed the rug clean, Scott saw the only different looking petal sitting innocently on the ground, intentionally being avoided like it was a bombed that was about to detonate. It took Scott a moment to grab the small petal with hesitant fingers, the thick saliva had now dried up and it looked oddly clean, as if it didn’t came from inside him, _growing_ inside him.

In an instant, Scott found himself marching down the hall and entering the elevator before pushing a button to head down the sublevels. He didn’t notice himself gripping the petal tightly on his hand as if it could slip through his fingers at any moment. Once the elevator doors slid open, he stepped out and headed straight towards Hank’s lab, not at all bothering to knock before pushing the door open and seeing the furry blue mutant scrolling through his desktop.

Hank wasn’t given a chance to ask what Scott was doing here especially this late at night when the younger man slammed the petal on his desk, breathing hard and with obvious difficulty, “What flower is this?” he asked instantly.

Hank readjusted his glasses and stared down on the crushed and deformed petal, looking as if his mind was fighting between answering the question and from asking a question himself. He swallowed and stared up at the younger man in front of him, “Gardenia,” he answered instead, and as if he was able to read Scott’s mind, he added, “It means Secret Love.”

Scott pocketed his hands and shuffled on his feet, “I don’t understand.” 

Hank stood up and looked at him at eye level, “It means the patient had somehow fell in-love with a person, secretly, hiding it from everyone around him,” he answered, eyes studying Scott’s expression, as if trying to test a theory, “Even to his own self.” He added.

_Secret Love._ He thought, _Hiding it even to himself_ he added while running a hand through his hair. And as if the massage was finally settling in, Scott found himself taking a sit on one of Hank’s visitor chairs to rest his head on both of his hands, the realization was finally slapping him with a full force on the face.

“Is it a _she_?” Hank finally asked, much to Scott’s chagrin, while sauntering his way towards the team leader, “Or a he?” it was a question, Scott knew it was question, but it sounded like it was a fact.

Not wanting to admit anything, Scott stayed silent and waited for the older man to understand the situation himself.

“Who is he?” Hank asked again.

And Scott instantly understood why Logan kept on avoiding the question, why he was so adamant on hiding the other person’s identity, it all fucking made so much sense now. Maybe it was part of the illness, but Scott was sure he didn’t want Logan to be dragged into the problem that wasn’t even his fault in the first place. It was better off if the guy doesn’t know, not wanting to burden the other party from something he wasn’t aware of.

Scott took a breath and straightened himself up to lean back down on the chair’s backrest, “I think you already know,” he answered instead, not announcing a name but not denying the fact either, “And I would like it if you could keep this thing between the two of us.”

Hank huffed bitterly and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if the burden of Logan and Scott’s stubbornness has been creating a massive headache for him, “Are you planning on hiding it just like him?”

“I don’t see the importance it could cause if others were to know,” He answered.

“I’m not talking about others, Scott,” Hank snapped, “I’m talking about Logan, I think he would like to know the situation you’re currently in.”

Scott stood up and pocketed his hands, “Again, I don’t see the importance it could cause if _he_ were to know,” he repeated and before Hank could say a rebut, he continued talking, “There’s no reason to, unless if he could reciprocate the feelings, but we’re both already aware that the possibility’s unlikely to happen.”

Hank knew Scott had a point here, but if ever the older mutant had any plans of presenting a different reason, Scott decided that it would be better to end their discussion here. Without waiting for a reply, Summers got out of the room without giving the small petal a second glance, not after when he felt another itch in his throat.

Hank didn’t call him back, and he was grateful for that.

* * *

Scott woke up before his alarm, feeling groggy and as if his whole body was under water, his lungs felt tight making it hard for him to breathe in air. Sitting up, he tried to take a deep breath through his mouth before doubling over when the air felt like knives grazing the insides of his throat. Scrambling towards the bathroom, Scott desperately turned the faucet on and used his right hand for cupping the water to drink in.

With another coughing fit, Scott spluttered out the fluid from his mouth and gripped the sides of the sink until his knuckles turned white. Something was clogging up his air passage and Scott found himself frantically punching his chest, trying his best to push it out. Eyes welling up as the pain kept on increasing, he wanted to claw his throat until it bleed and pull the flowers out that was trying to kill him on the inside. Knees buckling, something finally unclogged and Scott coughed out a handful of light coloured petals on the floor.

Sitting down on his hunches, he was a panting mess and feeling like he just ran a thousand meter marathon. Sweat was trickling down his temples while his muscles felt like it just melted. Suddenly realizing that he left the faucet open, Scott grabbed the doorknob for support to pull himself up, leaning down on the sink, he removed his goggles and splashed his face before putting it back on to close the valve.

Scott stood there for a moment, wondering if Logan had dealt the same ordeal everyday.

Letting out a tired exhale, he got out of the bathroom to fetch his towel. Hanahaki disease or not, he still had a class to teach and a team to run.

After assuming that it was just a simple flu for weeks, Scott began to notice the small changes on his appearance, his muscles were still there but it had obviously turned a bit soft and he had become a shade paler, his skin was dry and his hair was dull. The changes weren’t obvious if you don’t examine it wisely, but it was still there. Sooner or later people will start taking notice of it, a thought that Scott chose to ignore for the moment.

After taking a shower and putting on some clothes, he picked up his books before noticing the number of vases filled with red carnation flowers on his work table. Scott didn’t noticed himself staring at it for a number of seconds, wondering when was the first time Logan had pulled a fully bloomed flower out of his mouth and calculating how many days he had left before he started spitting out blood.

It was strange, counting down the days of his death, wondering if he could survive once he started bleeding on the inside. Was he going to be able to cough out a fully bloomed Gardenia flower? Will he survive it? How big will it grow? 

Questions that can’t be instantly answered swam through his head. 

Shaking his head, Scott readjusted the books on his arms before stepping out of the room, in search of Logan just in case the older man had somehow tainted his blood on one of the empty bedroom floors again, it’s not really an easy task scrubbing it off especially when the floor’s wooden. 

Later, while Scott monitors his class answer a quiz, he found himself searching through the media in search of what a Gardenia flower looked like, according on its description, the colour should be white and are often used as wedding bouquets because of how ‘innocent’ and 'lovely' it looked. Scott found himself fighting off a bitter laugh, finding it funny on how the flowers that were used to symbolize the unity of lovers was currently the reason for his impending death.

_Secret Love._

Somehow, Scott found the meaning very _stupid_, how can someone just magically fall in-love with somebody without noticing it? Even if they did, why would they chose to pretend that it wasn’t real? The feelings was there, it was present, obviously palpable and still chose to what, keep it a secret? Apparently, Scott was that kind of person and he somehow realized he was practically judging himself.

Closing his laptop before resting his head on his forearms, Scott ignored the uncomfortable jab of his glasses on the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath instead, studying the irregular travel of air inside his lungs. After inhaling through the mouth had caused an unwanted coughing fit earlier, Scott had tried his best to avoid on repeating that same mistake again if he’s planning to keep his current situation confidential.

Realizing that he could still manage to make it throughout the day, Scott took the risk and decided to hit the Danger Room just to check that his skills were still intacted, thinking that it has nothing to do with avoiding the students if ever his Hanahaki decided to kick in without as much as giving a hint first.

Scott was about to enter the locker room in hopes of changing into his suit when he saw Logan came out, hair wet and skin still moist after taking a shower. It was evident that the scratches on his skin were still in the middle of stitching up and Scott found it irritating just watching the guy walk as if his healing factor wasn’t deteriorating.

“I remembered telling you that you’re temporarily not allowed on using the Danger Room,” he reminded him, recalling that short discussion a few weeks ago. It was good to realize that his memory’s still functioning properly.

“Last I check I don’t follow yer rules,” Logan retorted instead, letting out a light cough before grunting as if to refrain any red petals from coming out of his mouth.

And Scott was sure there was worry that he was feeling there, he just realized it now that it had always been all this time. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be irritated by Logan’s stubbornness and inability to cooperate fully for once in his long damn life. 

Inhaling through gritted teeth was probably a bad idea when he felt the immediate scratch in his throat, Scott tried his best refraining himself from coughing up and successfully manage to only let out an uncomfortable grunt while tears well up on his covered eyes. Logan watched him with narrowed eyes and the younger man suddenly wanted to bolt out, run away from him and create as much distance he could make. Gripping his hand into a fist, Scott covered his mouth with the other and let out a controlled cough.

It was probably just his imagination, but for a moment, Logan looked concerned.

“Ya said it was a simple flu,” he said.

“It is,” Scott lied professionally.

The older man only stared at him, hands on his hips, unconsciously showing the wound from where the claws came out was still in the process of stitching up, “Why don’t’cha take a break? Danger Room ain’t going anywhere if yer taut ass decided to stay on bed for today.”

Scott stared at him for a full second before letting out a short breath of air, “Watch it Wolverine,” he said, “For a moment I thought you might’ve cared.”

Logan scrunched his face, “Whatever,” he gruffed, “Ya could be in a damn fever for all I care,” he added before marching off, scratching his nape as he went. The younger man only watched as he vanished by turning a corner, there was no point of ignoring his urges anymore, better make the most of it before he reach the point where he couldn’t stand up on his bed anymore.

Scott entered the locker room and immediately zeroed in on the pile of dark petals at the corner, blood stains were clumsily smeared on the metal floor as a couple of fully bloomed carnation flowers were littered randomly across the tiles. He let out a tired exhale before opening his locker to pull out his own broom and mop.

And maybe he ignored the stabbing feeling in his chest, it’s not like he could change the fact that everything’s falling tremendously towards the worst, ignoring it felt like it’s the only option for him. Hank said so that dealing the unwanted emotions could end up with early chances of death, Scott could handle that, that’s what he’s been doing for most of his life.

* * *

Scott managed to live throughout the week by hiding from everyone and wasting most of his time in Hank’s lab after finishing his class, checking his vitals and health on a daily basis along with the constant search of in hopes of finding a treatment. Scott was twice as adamant on making this research successful knowing that his life was also on the line. He forgot how many times he’d slept on one of Hank’s computer desk and waking up with his whole body aching.

“I think it’s better if you take a break, preferably for a couple of days,” Hank advised him while the younger mutant was neck deep on reading an article, “It’s not healthy, especially with your current state.”

“I’m fine,” was Scott’s automatic reply. He heard a sharp intake of air before the computer screen immediately turned black, Scott stared at it for a second before slapping the side of the monitor, “Hank, something went wrong wi—” he wasn’t able to finish his sentence after noticing the older mutant standing behind the computer he was using, a plug in hand.

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re getting thinner,” He informed him.

“I’m aware,” Scott answered, slowly leaning back on the chair’s backrest, “I was there whenever you check my weight,” he added.

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a tired exhale, “Look, I don’t think I can handle throwing another white petal for you without imagining your death,” he said, “Your health’s not in its good condition as it was before, and I think immersing yourself in a research that I can handle well enough on my own won’t help your condition,” he added, “I’m this close on begging you to at least take a rest, I already asked Munroe to cover your class.”

Scott shook his head making the older man breathe out in irritation, “I’m also covering Logan’s class,” he said, “Ororo can’t just handle three subjects.”

“Then I’ll handle your classes.”

“But what about—”

“I think I could work with a bit of multitasking.”

“But—”

“Just rest,” Hank almost yelled, sounding desperate while he placed a heavy paw on Scott’s shoulder, “I don’t think anyone would notice if you chose to stay in bed for a couple of hours.”

He was reluctant at first, but after noticing the determined expression playing on Beast’s face, Scott let out a defeated sigh before lightly nodding his head. He would be deaf not to notice the breath of relief that the older man let out, “But I want immediate updates the next morning,” he informed him quickly.

There’s a reason why Scott preferred using most of his time down in the sublevels even if Hank clearly doesn’t approve to it. Somehow, the absent presence of Logan made it easier for him to deal with his emotions, immersing himself with work and research that made him forget about his own condition. It helped, greatly, but it’s not like he abandoned Logan on dealing with his own state of mess. 

Scott would _always_ clean up those red tainted flowers no matter how many times Hank advices him not to. It hurt, it always does, knowing that the flowers weren’t meant for him but for someone else entirely, but that doesn’t mean he would stop doing it. And somehow, that simple act would always make him cough up in pain and spit out numbers of petals that Hank would later burn. 

Scott’s still thankful that he haven’t spat out blood yet.

Exhaustion finally catching up to him, Scott realized how he could sleep on his bed for days and not feel bad about it before remembering that he would gladly not be dead just by closing his eyes. 

“Kid, I ain’t dead yet,” He heard Logan groaned out from down the hall, “Stop shaking me.”

“You weren’t waking up!” Marie screeched, “What was I supposed to think!?”

Scott immediately found himself entering the den to find Logan laid down on the floor while Marie sat beside him, hands clenching both straps of the older man’s wife beaters, covered fingers painted with blood as dark petals littered across the floor. Her gloved hands were shaking and she looked like she was about to either punch or hug him.

“Sleeping,” Logan suggested.

“Asshole,” she said before pulling him into a tight hug and burying her face on his chest, “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Ain’t Halloween yet,” he replied earning him a punch on the chest, Logan grunted in pain but hid it perfectly well before running his fingers through her hair, soothingly, but careful enough not to touch her skin.

Scott felt like he just walked in on something that was meant for only two people, he’s not supposed to be here, there’s no place for his presence. Scott was about to leave when Logan immediately noticed him. Even behind the ruby quartz glasses, they both knew that they just made eye contact, and right then, he realized that this must’ve been the first time they’ve seen each other ever since that unexpected encounter down in the locker room.

It’s not that Scott was avoiding him, he just knew that the presence of the older guy could create problems and thus concluding that seeing less of him would be the better option. He could cover Logan’s class and clean his mess without having to be in the same room as him, it’s not that it would make him feel better, it was just easier that way.

“There’s a mop beside the shelf,” He informed them, confirming his presence to Marie, “I suggest we clean the mess before the blood leaves a permanent mark on the floor boards.” When there was only silence, Scott pocketed his hands and straightened his back, “This isn’t the first time it happened, he always wakes up after a firm shake,” He assured her.

Moments later, Scott found himself scrubbing off blood while Marie picks up a bundle of petals before throwing it inside a bucket, Logan on the other hand was messily mopping the floor, somehow making a puddle of water and smearing it around the surface, making a greater mess than before. It took Scott a full minute to finally give in and order Logan to just take a sit on one of the sofas. 

He didn’t question why Logan decided to stay on watching them, observing two persons cleaning the floor wasn’t really an entertaining view unless he’s having fun, which sounded mentally wrong. He should look up in the internet later if one of the many effects of Hanahaki was mental illness, that is if Hank haven’t yet decided on removing his connection to the internet yet. Although Logan’s presence was odd, he found himself quietly liking the company.

Scott didn’t notice how Marie was close to him when he let out a tired sigh, wiping his forearm over his forehead to clean the droplets of sweat that were threatening to roll down. He knew his health was deteriorating and everyday it gets worse, but Scott would always find a way to ignore it, setting the worry aside as if it wasn’t important. He was tired and breathing hard, for what’s worth, he wasn’t expecting for Marie to even notice it.

“You smell nice, Mr. Summers,” She commented as if to complement him, “Like flowers.”

Scott stilled his actions, his hands were in the middle of scrubbing out the small portion of blood on the floor when he stopped. _Like, flowers._ It sounded like a compliment, but it wasn’t, not to him at least. Aren’t flowers supposed to be beautiful, innocent, somewhat symbolises something lovely? But it doesn’t, maybe to him it doesn’t. Maybe to Logan it doesn’t. Because it hurts, flowers that grows inside his lungs hurts, flowers that slowly tries to kill him hurts, flowers that scratches his throat hurts. Flowers _hurts_.

“Thank you,” Scott said instead because she doesn’t knew, only Hank does.

“New cologne?” She added, as if to continue the communication that he doesn’t want.

He hummed as if to say yes and tried pushing himself to continue on scrubbing the floor as he felt the itch behind his throat threaten to come out as an ugly cough or a beautiful petal, “It’s something that comes off natural,” he replied, not at all telling a lie.

“Flowers pisses me off,” Logan piped up, in result of two heads turning towards his direction, “Mind if ya stop discussing those shit when I’m around?”

Scott leaned up and sat down on his haunches, “Your presence isn’t technically needed here, Logan,” he said, tilting his head to the right while crossing both hands on his chest, “If we had wanted to discuss something that you aren't comfortable with, then the door’s right over there,” he added, raising his right arm and pointed it towards the exit.

“I got here first,” the older man grunted, as if that was enough to win a dispute.

“I think you’re old enough to use ‘I got here first’ as a reasonable argument.” Scott intoned.

Marie, being the person that seem to instantly feel when a useless argument would arise from the two of them, had quietly stood up and picked the bucket of petals before heading out. Scott was aware of her tendencies to leave the room whenever Logan would engage into a useless quarrel with him, something about the fact that she already tried her best and decided to just leave them be, she’d already done her part of the job.

“Really? Ya gonna talk about age with me?” Logan asked, faking surprise.

“Last I check I wasn’t the immature one out of the two of us.” Scott argued, finally deciding to stand up to look at the older man and not because his ankles are starting to ache in protest.

Logan scoffed, “Yer the one acting like a damn five year old, not me,” he spat, slowly standing up as if to fight off.

Scott scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. As far as he knew, spending his time in Hank’s lab and avoiding people for the past couple of days doesn’t… well it does sound childish. But he wasn’t expecting anybody to actually point it out to him, especially when it came from Logan. It was obvious that the older man doesn’t actually prefer Scott’s presence around him, a thought that he already learned to accept even before realizing that his oblivious ass decided to fall in-love with the guy. 

“Studying and finding a way to cure your illness isn’t immaturity, it doesn’t categorize as acting like a damn five year old,” Scott argued, running his fingers through his hair, it felt dry and dead, “You, on the other hand, assuming that I’ve suddenly decided going AWOL for the past week _is_ childish, I’m not avoiding anyone unlike—”

He snapped his mouth shut because he’s not really expecting for Logan’s rough palm on his forehead. There was a slight wrinkle on the older man’s forehead as if to check his temperature. Logan’s hand was warm, although it felt like sandpaper on his skin, he found himself liking the feeling. He didn’t noticed himself leaning unconsciously to it.

“Ya got a flu or somethin’?” Logan finally asked.

The older man’s voice snapped him out of his daze, realizing what he was doing, he jerked his head and pushed Logan’s hand away, “I must’ve been spending my time down in the sublevels quite too much,” he reasoned, the itch inside his throat’s starting to work its way up his mouth, stronger and much painful. Balling his hands into fist, Scott tried his best to push the gardenia petals down his throat. 

It burned painfully, but he didn’t let it show.

Logan stared at him, he was silent for a minute, hands slipping inside the pocket of his jeans as if wanting to say something but decided not to, “Ya dating anybody?” he asked instead. Scott tilted his head to the right, his whole face uncharacteristically scrunching up from the sudden question, “Ya smell,” Logan added, his shoulders hiking up sheepishly, “I dunno, not bad?”

“Thanks?” Scott replied sceptically.

Logan groaned irritably and scratched his nape furiously, looking oddly like a wolf with flees, “Nevermind,” he snarled, “I forgot yer a fuckin’ idiot.” He added before taking a sidestepp to start walking out of the room.

The younger man stood there for a moment, it took him a second to remember that he was supposed to be scrubbing the floor boards clean. Already throwing the insult off his shoulder, Scott cursed under his breath when he noticed a permanent blood stain on the floor. And maybe it was the absence of others that made him feel like the damn had finally broken, triggering the start of his painful process on spitting out petals.

His throat burned as he tried to muffle out the loud coughs that he kept on making, his right hand gripping his mouth tightly before the soft texture of a Gardenia flower tickled his palm, yet he continued on scrubbing, as if encouraging himself that this would make it stop, make him forget even just for a moment.

He pushed himself not to feel anything, only thinking of the constant brushing stroke on the floor, up, down, left right, then repeat. Nothing more, nothing less. It helped, greatly. After taking in broken harsh breaths, he felt his breathing return to normal, biting his lower lip to stop from shaking because of the throbbing pain in his throat. Slowly and carefully, Scott pocketed the handful of petals inside his pocket, ignoring the sticky soft texture and reminding himself to thoroughly wash his clothes on laundry day.

_You smell nice, Mr. Summers. Like flowers._

_Ya smell, I dunno, not bad._

He should probably start brewing himself a bottle of chamomile tea soon. With a controlled grunt, Scott continued cleaning.

* * *

Scott woke up unable to breath, his throat felt tight and his mouth was open but nothing came in and out of it, not even air. Scott flailed his hands, fist slamming on the bed sheets as if trying to push himself on the bed to sit up. He can’t breathe, air wasn’t entering his lungs. Water started to expel from his eyes as his lungs tried its best to suck in oxygen.

Toes curling, Scott could feel himself slip away from consciousness. Gritting his teeth, he used all of his might to push out of the bed until he stumbled face down on the floor, he slammed his fist on his chest and he felt a small air passage was created and he immediately took a deep breath. The pain was in an instant, like sharp knives carving from the inside but the feeling of air filling up his lungs made him feel, _relieved_. 

His arms were shaking as it supported his whole weight, broken gasps resonated across the room as saliva trickled out of his mouth and down to his chin, it was thick and mushy as a thread of spit was created from his mouth and down to the ground. He soon realized that his body hurts, every part of it as he rasped out. His voice sounded dry and broken, he fisted his hands and slammed it down on the floor as he coughed out, petals that were tainted with blood soon came out of his mouth.

_Shit._

Shit because wooden tiles are hard to clean, shit because that means he’s almost near his deadline, shit because he’s going to die and he’s nowhere near close on finding a way to fix _everything_. Pushing himself off the floor, Scott scrambled towards his bathroom as he felt bile run up and out of his mouth. He tripped and fell because of the rug and barely made it on the toilet’s lid.

The bitter taste of bile and wet petals rushed out of his mouth like a faucet. His throat burned and his knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the edge of the seat.

He didn’t know how long he stayed sitting on the tiles of his bathroom floor even after his breathing returned to normal, he knew in his mind that he should clean up the mess he’d made, but the cold and hard floor felt so nice on his aching bones.

Scott lost count on how many students had already asked if he’s doing well. It was easy to dodge the questions at first, but the longer he kept things hidden, people were bound to take suspicion. So he tried to make reason, and quite stupidly, to them. Ororo knew better, in result of him always retreating away from her presence. He tried returning down the sublevels with Hank, but the furry blue mutant wasn’t allowing him, up to the point he had finally installed a lock on the door.

His one week of staying down in Hank’s lab had helped him far better than his four days of rest in his room. His mind couldn’t find a way to become unnecessarily busy other than rereading all of the books in his shelf, in result of him countlessly wondering, thoughts drifting and speculating, probably also wishing. That maybe, just _maybe._

Scott found himself slapping his face most of the time, trying to shake away the thoughts that were easy to come across now, nothing for him to deny anymore. Somehow his brain decided that since he’s finally aware of his own feelings, what good would it get if he chose to hide it? It was no longer a secret to be kept away from himself. And that’s what annoys him the most. Before, he could handle the older man’s presence, even want it for the matter just to help him, but now, just a mere mention of his name felt like it could bring him a bucket full of unwanted emotions.

He’s getting worse, he knows it, every day whenever he looked at the mirror and see a guy slowly thinning up, skin turning pale and hair losing its usual shine and softness staring back at him, he knows. It’s not that he’s avoiding or denying his current state, it was just odd watching your own body slowly deteriorate, and there’s nothing for him to stop it. He started wearing bigger clothes just to hide it.

“Maybe ya just need a couple of shut eye,” Logan once told him after a tiring morning lesson, “Yer stick up the ass ain’t immune to exhaustion.”

It felt nice, somehow, pretending that maybe he was waiting for him, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, not because he was just passing by and had accidentally crossed paths. Scott shook his head, thoughts like this tends to make things worse, he should be avoiding this, not run towards it.

“I’m fine.” He would _always_ say.

He could manage to pull out a convincing lie, but somehow, maybe it was just his imagination, it felt like Logan doesn’t believe all of the bullshit his mouth had said. He always found himself retreating because of that, it doesn’t matter anymore if he’s turning out quite obvious, he just wanted it to stop, he can deal the physical pain, he can always deal with it. Just not _this_.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Logan was also avoiding _him_ the same way, pretending that he was fine or telling him off that it wasn’t his business. Scott only let out a bitter scoff, Logan does that to everyone on a daily basis.

Letting out a shaky breath, he pushed himself up and silently thanked that it was a weekend before flushing down the toilet. He grabbed his own mop just behind the door and headed out the bathroom to start cleaning up the bloodstains. He just managed to take a step out of the door frame when Hank came in without knocking, his glasses were askew and the collar of his lab coat was undone, looking as if he came from his lab and directly went into Scott’s room.

“I found something,” he immediately announced before his face faltered down into a blank slate as he take in the view. There was a second of silence as they both stood there before Hank cleared his throat and straightened himself up, “Do you need help cleaning?”

Scott stood there for a moment before letting his shoulders sag, sudden relief flood through him as soon as he realized that it was only Hank, “There’s a bucket inside the bathroom, just beside the toilet.” He replied instead, Hank nodded and slowly closed the door behind him as if it was something fragile, before heading towards the bathroom.

Scott trudged his way towards the stained floor, swiping the mop across the floor from left to right repeatedly, “What brings you here?” he asked as soon as the older mutant stepped out, carrying a bucket half filled with water using his right paw.

“I found something,” he said again when he came standing beside the younger man. Scott stilled and looked up, “I mean, _really_ found something.”

* * *

“There’s a reason why none of us aren’t able to access this kind of study for _weeks_,” Hank rambled as he jostle through his suddenly messy lab, piles of papers were littered everywhere along with a couple of empty sachet of instant coffees. He pushed through the printed copies of numerous studies as he try to reach his computer, “It came across to me last night—or early morning, depends on the time— that maybe I’m not looking at the right place, that maybe I should look into sites were you least expect.” He continued.

Scott and Logan were following the blue scientist, eyes wondering around, probably questioning on how the guy managed to end up using this much paper.

After informing Scott about the possible treatment for Hanahaki, the younger man didn’t thought twice to bring Logan down in the lab with him. Hank was insistent at first that the feral mutant’s presence wasn’t needed unless the treatment was considered as a real possibility, but Scott was already yanking Logan’s shirt and had made no plans of letting go.

“Is the government going to start knocking on our door later?” Logan said, picking up a paper filled with garbled equations.

“Maybe,” Hank replied with a shrug before pressing a button on his keyboard to open his desktop, “I was able to access illegal human experimentations all around the globe since the nineteen hundreds such as; Retroviruses, Tuskegee, San Quentin, Project Rebirth, and even about the Weapon X Program.” He informed them while counting each with his fingers, “Then I came across a study in Russia about Tsvetushchiye tsvety, also can be translated as ‘Blooming Flowers’.”

Hank’s fingers worked on the keyboard before clicking a site and turning the desktop to show them a wall of words and a black and white picture of men in white uniform lined up in a row. Scott peered down, eyebrows scrunched up as if observing it intently, “Mutant experimentations?” he guessed.

The scientist shooked his head, “Any men with Hanahaki illness, that means mutant and humans alike” he answered, pressing on the right arrow key to show them a collection of photos, faces without names but was categorized by scientific terms of different kinds of flowers, “The person who was responsible for this research had been able to buy, collect, or probably kidnap a number of people with Hanahaki, studying their flowers and how severe their cases are.” He clicked and another picture came up, then another, then another, becoming more worse and gruesome than the other, “At first the researchers were studying what were the effects and how long a person can live—”

“How the fuck is this connected on finding a cure?” Logan snapped running a hand over his face irritably.

Hank stuttered but quickly straightened up and pushed his paws inside the pockets of his coat, “It’s not a cure that I’ve found,” he said, and as if reading their minds, he continued, “It’s a surgery, and a fatal one.”

Scott crossed his arms over his chest, head tilting to the side, “Hank, surgeries aren’t advisable, it was already stated that the roots will be gone temporarily but it will always grow back.”

“Because it was only _removed_,” He reasoned as if stating the obvious.

“Yer losing me here, Bub,” Logan groaned.

“Listen, how do we make a hill or a mountain turn into a place filled with buildings and houses?”

“Build buildings and houses,” Scott answered flatly.

“No, we first remove the trees _then_ build buildings and houses,” he corrected, “One of the main factors of eliminating vegetation permanently is through _fire_,” then there was silence, no one said anything, they only stared at the scientist. Hank took a breath and turned towards his computer before clicking on a few links, “One of the many patients that had been tortured and studied on had undergone an experimental surgery,” he explained, showing them a middle aged man with daffodils as his flowers, “They managed to successfully remove the roots through burning the stem and the place of its origin, but a few days later the patient had died because of internal burns.”

Scott was staring, observing, studying the picture that was shown in front of him. Burning. Fatal. Successful. Dead. It was as if no matter how hard he tried, nothing will help him, but he didn’t started this for himself, this wasn’t for him to begin with. Turning his head, he saw Logan looking at the screen with furrowed eyebrows. 

It was a possibility, that if Logan’s feelings were terminated successfully, it could turn into a domino effect and would be able to help _him_. He could have a chance with him, it might not be a hundred percent sure, but at least it would be drilled inside his head that Logan can or might reciprocate it.

“It might work,” Logan snapped his head to look at him as soon as the words left his mouth, “To you at least.”

“Last I check that poor fucker died,” he drawled.

“But it _worked_,” Scott pressed on, “If the surgery turned out successful on you, then it would be easy for your healing factor to kick in and restore your old health.” He explained.

“Uh huh,” he said, eyes narrowed, “And then what? I’m suddenly fine? Ya sure there aren’t any side effects, like I dunno, maybe about my fuckin’ emotions?”

“Actually,” Hank chimed in, “They were able to record the patient’s actions right after the experiment,” he said, moving his mouse and clicking on a link to display timely records in a log book, “There wasn’t anything written about physical pain, because they settled more on his emotions,” he explained, “It was written over here that when they tried on showing him images of his family, the patient was able to show simple affections; such as reaching a hand or caressing the image with his thumb.” Then Hank pointed on a different entry, a few paragraphs down, “But showing a picture of a dear friend, who was stated to be a groom to be—”

“Groom?” Logan commented, an eyebrow raised.

“There’s a reason why he has Hanahaki,” Hank answered before continuing, “As I was saying, this certain image of a guy, who was a dear friend, wasn’t able to pull any sort of reaction, familiarization or even affection from the patient. It was as if he doesn’t know the person at all.” He explained, hands flailing like he was in a zone of discovering scientific breakthrough.

“And that means what?” Scott asked, sitting down on either a desk or a very tall chair.

Hank pushed his glasses up, “My theory—which I have a feeling is true—the flowers represents the feelings, once it was forcefully removed, then any form of attachment would _also_ be removed. Affections that were made because of memory, memories of the person the patient has feelings for. Meaning every—”

“No.” Logan immediately said, not at all bothered to let the scientist finish his sentence. It was obvious that he didn’t like the probable result and has no plans of changing his mind, “I ain’t doing that bullshit.”

Scott, who was sold with the idea of the possibility that Logan might forget about his beloved wasn’t happy with the older man’s response, “It isn’t bullshit, this by far is the only chance that we found to fix you.”

Logan turned to look at him, irritation and disbelief was painted and across his face, “Ya mean to tell me yer okay with this crap? I already have a damn brain defection, I ain’t dealing another memory loss, thank you very much.”

“It’s just one person, Logan.” Hank insisted, “A person, that you even said, won’t and will never be able to return the same feelings. I think forgetting about his existence would do you much better that worse.”

Logan straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest, “Don’t care, ya ain’t changing my mind.”

the response annoyed Scott, “Look, this person that you keep on hiding, protecting or whatever you want to call it, has no idea what you feel. He might not even care if you were to forget about him. I know that I’m not aware of what kind of relationship you have with him, but I don’t see killing yourself is a better option to deal with your unrequited feelings.”

The older man let out a bitter scoff, “Bold of ya to say that,” he said, “Tell me, are ya willing to forget about Jeannie?” Scott froze, mouth zipping shut. 

She was dead for more than two years, if forgetting everything about her would fix things then he would do that, but if you ask him if he wanted it, the answer’s he doesn’t. He didn’t want to forget anything about her, not now not ever. 

“Thought so,” the older man said, before walking across the room while rubbing the back of his head as if contemplating, “Has it ever occurred to the both of ya that _he_ might notice? Ya two already jumped and assumed that I’m just nothin’ to the guy. Maybe yer right that we’re not friends, but what if we know each other the same way I know you.” He said, arms crossing over his chest and eyes narrowing, Scott noticed a small carnation flower blooming on the edge of his wrist, “How do ya supposed to deal with that?” 

And maybe Logan has a point, a good one for the matter, “I’ll handle it,” he replied instead.

The older man let out a humourless laugh, “Ya have no idea,” he mumbled, eyes trailing down before noticing the small flower and yanking it out, his eye twitched once as the flesh was thorn away from his skin. Scott found himself looking away, the itch in his throat’s beginning to hurt.

“This might be the only solution we have, Logan,” Scott insisted instead, voice low and flat.

“I know,” the older man answered, “And I don’t care.” He finished before turning around to leave.

Once the door closed with a soft click, Scott was immediately kneeling on the floor as he cough out the petals he’s been preventing to come out. Hank was instantly beside him, giving a bucket to vomit on, there wasn’t anything for him to do but to be there and pat him on the back, as if his soft fur could lessen the pain. 

Blood and saliva trickled down from his chin before dropping with a soft splat on the number of papers on the floor. He could taste the petals on his tongue, it was bitter but it smells good. His body was shaking from the impact of his coughs, beautiful flowers that ruins him from the inside. 

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” he said after resting quietly beside the desk with Hank sitting beside him, legs splayed on the floor.

“We’ll find something,” they both knew it was a lie.

* * *

He was getting skinnier each day up to the point his turtle neck wasn’t fit on his body anymore. Scott was now having a dilemma of trying to pull himself out of bed, everything seem to be harder than before, even sitting straight on the chair had made him break out in cold sweat. He found himself always leaning back on a soft backrest to avoid hurting his bones.

He can no longer hide his appearance, he knew it’s too obvious. He ended up telling Hank that he can’t manage teaching a class anymore when his coughing fit seem to become a common occurrence, sooner or later someone’s bound to find out.

And that someone turned out to be Kurt.

Scott was making another litre of chamomile tea in the kitchen right after his early morning coughing fit. He was sure his breath strongly smells like flowers and since he was supposed to look over the students play out in the yard, he decided to brew himself some tea just to lessen the possibility of another painful dilemma.

He felt a petal was stuck at the roof of his mouth and his tongue couldn’t seem to take it out. Putting down his drinking bottle, he opened his mouth and used his fingers to remove the small Gardenia petal, he flinched and his left eye twitched behind the ruby quartz glasses when he felt the silky texture brush over his uvula. With a controlled cough, he pulled it out, stared at it for a second, then threw it at the nearest trashcan before looking up to see Kurt staring at him.

They stared for a couple of moments as the German’s eyes observed his feature, Scott watched his teammate's expression changes from confused to suddenly being able to put together a puzzle.

Before the German could say anything, Scott placed a finger over his own mouth as to say it was a secret. Kurt’s lips were pulled back into a tight line in an instant and Scott used this as a cue to grab his bottle and head out the kitchen. If he’s lucky enough, Kurt would be keeping this a secret, he’s hoping that he does.

Scott later found himself being followed around by the German. At first he thought it was just coincidental, but whenever he change places to have a better view of the students play out on the lawn, Kurt always seem to be standing five feet away from him, always observing from behind. Scott pretended not to notice it and decided to just let the teleporting mutant do his own business. Shuffling on his chair, he leaned back and search a comfortable position before placing his bottle on his lap to watch over the kids.

He didn’t know how and when he fell asleep, one minute he was watching one of the kids kick a soccer ball around the grass then suddenly he was being roughly shaken awake by the shoulders. He groaned and realized that every joints of his body hurts, slowly opening his eyes, he was surprised to see the students standing a good feet around him while Logan was leaning down in front of him, big hands holding both of his shoulder.

“I must’ve fallen asleep,” was his instant response.

“Must’ve?” Logan asked raising a brow, obviously unamused, “I slapped yer face and ya ain’t responding.”

“Good sleep?” Scott reasoned.

Logan stared at him for a second before letting out a gruff huff, “Al’right,” he said standing up, suddenly the older man’s fist was gripping the front of Scott’s shirt as he pull him up on his feet.

Scott stumbled and almost lost his balance because of the sudden head rush, his hands flailed and managed to take a hold of Logan’s wrist for support, “What are you doing?” he almost yelped but managed to make it sound demanding.

“Dragging ya towards the med lab,” he grouched, “If Elf hadn’t informed me ya aren’t waking up, then ya must’ve been one unlucky bastard to die sleeping.” He informed him as he started pulling the younger man out of the crowd and into the mansion, students were whispering loudly as they reach the back door.

_Of course._ Kurt’s heart of gold has its perks.

“I can carry myself there, thank you very much,” Scott hissed as he tripped and fell, the tightening grip on his front shirt wasn’t making it comfortable, “Logan, let go,” he demanded as they pass by the older students on the hall, earning a couple of eyes on them as they cross from one room towards the other. But Logan remained deaf, “I said let go.” Still no response, “Logan. Let. Go.” 

He gritten his teeth and he kicked him on the back, it was a lousy kick, but it successfully made the older man stop on his tracks to turn around and glare at him, “Make me,” he growled before continuing on dragging him towards the med lab. 

Scott cursed and tried his best to balance himself, one step at a time, but Logan seem to make it his intention to trip him up, “I’m fine, Logan, let go,” he reasoned, “I just fell asleep.”

“Yer not fine,” He simply said.

“I’m fine.”

In an instant, Logan turned and pushed him towards the den, Scott fell on one of the sofas with a soft thud. He didn’t noticed he was drenched in sweat and heaving hard, “Yer not fine!” Logan yelled, “Ya barely weight anything anymore, and yer calling yerself fine?”

Scott was heaving hard, air rushing through his dried throat making him cough uncontrollably. He felt a sudden painful itch and Scott fisted the soft foam as he tried to control his breathing. Come hell as it may, he’s not going to spit flower petals in front of the older man.

Logan watched him before rubbing a frustrated hand across his face, he fell back and sat on the opposite sofa, letting out a controlled cough that Scott knew would be painful. Dark petals flew away from his mouth before shaking his head like a wolf. He looked up and stared at the younger man in front of him.

“What’s happening to ya?” he instead.

_I’m dying because of you, that’s what’s happening._

“I don’t know.”

* * *

Once Kurt found out, it snow balled from there.

Scott was spending his time inside the library because Jubilee had somehow decided to start a prank war with Drake in result of an iced room, lucky for Scott, it was his room. While Munroe and Hank handle on melting the ice, Bobby and Jubilee were currently writing ‘I will not prank anyone anymore in school’ on the board in an empty classroom.

Scott was busy fighting off sleep by reading a book titled _The Grapes of Wrath_ when Marie and Kitty came in carrying a couple of notebook and pens. A few minutes later, Scott found himself teaching the two students on how to compute basic calculus and also help them with their English essay.

None of them had asked him about his decreasing weight, something that the brunette had liked, being treated normally and not some fragile glass unlike Hank and the others. Although it was obvious that they wanted to ask what was wrong, they remained pretending to be very engrossed with the list of derivatives that Scott had listed. 

A few minutes later, he noticed Kitty pulling out a lock ‘n’ lock from her bag and hesitantly slide it across the table, the next thing he knew he already ate three tuna sandwiches without knowing. Scott was in the middle of chewing when he noticed what the two girls just did, he looked down on the sandwich and back at his students before a small smile was slowly creeping up his face.

“I still eat three meals a day,” he pointed out.

Both Kitty and Marie froze on doing their homework before wearily raising their eyes up to stare at Summers, looking as if they had just gotten busted from doing something inadmissible.

“I-I, w-well, we uhmm,” Kitty stuttered out.

“Thanks for the concern,” Scott said cutting her off before breaking into a full smile, “And you did that wrong.” He added while pointing at the Marie’s third answer.

Once they were finished, Scott was left alone inside the library as both girls were ordered to head back into their respectful rooms due to the time. An hour had passed and he received a text from Hank that his room’s now ice free but the bathroom’s a different story, deciding that he should finish reading his book first before heading back. Scott later found himself waking up from the feeling of someone carrying him, the gentle rock of back and forth from walking down the hall was oddly comforting.

The weird smell of mixed tobacco and floral had told Scott that he should move, jerk away and tell Logan to stay away from him. But he found himself unconsciously burying his face on the older man’s chest, for once, pretending. It was a short moment of temptation that he took, and the instant pain in his chest made him want to regret what he just did, but there wasn’t any.

Scott tried his best to refrain himself from letting out a cough, but the rough pain grazing his throat felt like his esophagus was on fire, as if burned wood was stuck inside his throat, refraining for him to breathe. His shoulder convulsed and Logan instantly stopped when Scott rasped out.

“Hey, ya al’right?” He asked but Scott only pushed a hand on the older man’s chest as he tried to scamper away, throat burning while he cough and wheeze, he tumbled down on the ground and found himself that he couldn’t stand up, “The fuck is wrong with ya!?” Logan demanded, crouching down beside him but Scott only held his hand up to keep him away.

He coughed and felt like his insides might come out of his mouth, he can’t breathe and everything hurt. He rolled over and tried to push himself up as saliva trickled down from his mouth, he tried to move away but the older man only grabbed him by the shoulders and yelled at him, he didn’t know what he was saying because of the increasing pain in his chest that made him deaf.

He slammed his fist on his chest while trying to kick Logan away to no avail, he was soon spitting out blood and gurgling out incoherent words. The clog in his throat was big, he can feel it stuck right under his tongue, he slammed his fist again and again, wanting the pain to stop and let the flowers come out.

“Hey, stop that!” Logan ordered trying to reach Scott’s wrist, “Tell me what the fuck is wrong and let me fuckin’ help ya!”

_Get away, you’re only making it worst._

Was what he wanted to say but he couldn’t. Pain engulfed him, he took a deep breath and his throat contracting as he writhed on the ground.

“Fuck!”

Something finally unclogged and Scott took the opportunity to puke out the ball of blood coated petals out of his mouth, his shoulders shook as the pain shot through him like an arrow. Splattering the tiles with his thick dark blood.

“It’s not contagious, I promise,” Scott reassured him before passing out on Logan’s arms.


	4. Last I Check, I Ain’t The One Tied Down On The Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS SO NOT BETA'D AND i HAVEN'T REREAD IT TO CHECK THE GRAMMAR, I JUST WANTED TO POST THIS QUICKLY BECAUSE THIS HAD BEEN ON HOLD FOR FAR TOO LONG.

Scott woke up feeling groggy, his head was heavy and his bones felt like it was torn apart and sewn together with a stapler. Not to mention his throat felt dry and soar, no, it felt like it was burning. He tried to drink his own saliva but his mouth was like the Sahara desert, lips chapped and tongue dry, Scott was dying for water. He lifted his arms and felt as if his bones were about to break apart, everything hurts and it’s starting to annoy him.

With a defeated sigh that turned into a fitful of painful coughs, burning his throat and taking most of what’s left of his energy. His chest hurt so badly, everything he do seemed to be so hard and would cause instant pain. He felt an IV needle embedded on the back of his right hand, there was a moment of confusion as to why he felt so dehydrated if liquid was already being distributed into his system.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by the bright lights of the ceiling and its shining metallic corners. He lay there, quietly, hearing as the clock ticks slowly, as if seeing the whole world in every shades of red was new. His body hurts, breathing’s painful, he was thirsty, his throat burns, his head’s heavy and yet he would rather lay in bed and stare at nothingness rather than act and do something about it. 

Moving seems overrated.

Releasing a heavy exhale that jagged his throat, Scott turned to go back to sleep when he saw a familiar bulk of mass sitting at the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest with his head hanging low. Looking peacefully asleep, _too_ peaceful. Suddenly having unknown energy to push himself off the bed, Scott opened his mouth to yell and try to wake Logan up, but his throat only let out a rasped sound.

Suddenly pissed that he’s in this state, Scott ripped the IV off and grimaced at the small sting it did on his skin. He wondered how he manage to trudge off the bed and dragged himself towards the older man, he just found himself a moment later holding Logan on both sides of his shoulder, resting most of his weight on the bigger body and felt no air coming through his nose. He tried to shake him awake, but Logan’s heavy frame only made him tire up drastically.

_“Logan,”_ he rasped out, voice sounding dry. It sent a series of pain through his throat that made him cough up, resting his head on his forearms as he tried to take in deep breaths. 

Rather than feel bad for himself, he felt annoyed for currently being so weak. How long was he unconscious for this to happen? Looking up, he stared at the older man sleeping soundlessly in front of him, three bulbs of flowers had grown from his shoulders and chest. 

How long had Logan been dead? 

Suddenly desperate, Scott tried to straighten up as best he could so that his feet would carry his weight and raised his right hand up. He almost lost his balance but manage to keep his footing on the floor and tried again. Biting his lips until it hurt, Scott took a deep breath and slammed his hand across the older man’s cheek. 

The sound of skin to skin resonated across the room as Logan’s head snapped sideways, the sudden intake of breath had sent Scott different kinds of relief. Logan coughed, causing for Scott’s arms to shake. Realizing that he’s in a rather difficult position knowing that if he let go, his legs would give out and would definitely land his ass flat on the cold metal floor, he gave himself a short moment to contemplate if falling on the floor won’t give much drastic damage for him.

Luckily for him, Logan seemed to grasp his surroundings quickly. While in the midst of his coughing fit, he manage to curl his left arm around Scott’s waist when the younger man gave a sign of losing his balance. 

Three bloodied carnation flowers later, Scott found himself being glared down by the older man, his arms curling uncomfortably around his waist and he find it rather problematic since his bones aren’t really in its best state.

“Morning,” Scott greeted instead, his voice sounding hoarse and broken, earning an involuntary eye twitch from the older man that confused him a bit.

“The fuck are ya doing out of bed?,” He grunted, eyebrows furrowed.

Scott was meant to say that he just manage to bring Logan back to life after his short visit from the dead, and a simple thanks would really be nice. But instead, his burning throat and dry lips were suddenly the highlights of his senses, “I need water,” he told him instead, “And call, Hank.” He added after his brain did a quick reminder why he was here.

* * *

Turns out, drinking a glassful of water with a dry throat was similar to swallowing razors. The moment Scott enthusiastically accepted the glass of water that Logan handed to him, he found himself coughing painfully and spilling water across the clean white sheets. He felt like his bones were threatening to break as Hank tried to sooth him by rubbing circles on his back.

Logan carried Scott out of bed by the shoulders while the blue mutant pull out a new gurney for him to lay on. It was annoying, being this weak that he couldn’t even take care of himself, and having two men fussing over him like he was some sort of ten year old with asthma. He hated it, he may be sick, but he’s no god damn woman. Getting man handled was enough humiliation for him to live through the day.

The second time he tried to drink, he was prepared and managed to finish the whole glass, then realized that he’s dead beat tired after doing such little work. Times like these makes him feel envious of Logan’s healing factor, the guy had been growing flowers way longer than him and yet he haven’t experience not even a tinge of his current situation. After hydrating himself and feeling Hank’s cold stethoscope across his chest, Scott found himself being laid back down on the mattress with another IV connected to him.

“It’s the flowers,” Hank informed him, “It’s taking most of your body liquid, and since it’s been growing and multiplying for quite a while now, your body now needed huge amounts of it.”

Scott was momentarily reminded of his constant thirst and infrequent visits to the restroom. He noticed it before, he just seem to put the information at the far back of his mind, knowing that there were much more important matters to worry about.

He just hoped that even with this state, Hank wouldn’t give him another reason to be humiliated by putting a catheter on him. He would rather have a bucket beside his bed than stuck a small tube between his legs.

Hank pushed his glasses up and squeezed his clipboard under his right armpit, looking as if he knew what was going on inside Scott’s head, “From now on, you’ll be taking constant intakes of Chamomile tea, and after witnessing your state, expect that we’ll be using a catheter on you.”

Scott grimaced, “Can we comprise with the idea of having a bucket under my bed instead?”

“You can’t even stand up.”

“I think I managed well earlier.” Scott shrugged, feeling the painful pull of his joints.

Hank glared at him, lips pursed tightly as if refraining for himself to voice out the words he threatened to say. Instead, he exhaled loudly and rubbed his index finger over his forehead as if to sooth himself, obviously already tired from dealing Scott’s stubbornness, “Just do as I say,” he told him, sounding dead beat tired before turning to look at the older man who was quietly situated at the far corner of the room, “And I expect you to be drinking just as much, I don’t care if it tastes bad, as far as I’ve known, both of you are currently _my_ patients.”

“Last I check, I ain’t the one tied down on the bed.” Logan grunted, clearly unhappy that he was suddenly involved. Scott tried not to give out an expression, because in all honesty, Logan’s already involved.

“No, but I’ve been aware that this was your fifth time dying,” Hank informed him, “Because of that, Scott had to get off the bed just to wake you.”

“He didn’t have to get off the bed.”

“Believe me when I tell you that he will always, _always_, get off the bed just to wake you no matter how many times you or I told him not to,” the blue mutant almost snapped, if it weren’t for his voice sounding levelled, Scott would’ve assumed that Hank was mad.

“Hank,” Scott called out, warning him not to continue any further. 

There was a moment of silence when Hank took a deep intake of air before turning around to fix his medical supplies that was laid messily on the table, Scott assumed that he did that for the sake of wanting to put his mind on something else, desperately trying to get preoccupied. Logan only stood there, eyebrows furrowed, looking as if either confused or clueless from what the blue mutant just stated.

Scott noticed that Logan quickly brushed off his confusion with a slight shake of his head, “How long had this shit been going?” he asked instead. Scott tried not to frown because as far as he’s aware, the discussion will be about him, and it’s annoying because he’s in the room _with_ them.

“A couple of weeks, or a month I guess,” Hank answered, his back facing Logan while his hands move across the table to pick his things up.

“And ya didn’t even tell anyone?” Logan asked, eyebrows raising, “Does Chuck know about this?”

Hiding things from the Professor wasn’t an easy task, but growing up with telepaths always around him had given Scott the advantage to learn on walling up his mind. Blocking out unwanted connections unless they came in with a force.

“Scott was very vocal about wanting to keep things under wraps,” he replied, zipping his bag shut, “And, yes, that also means not to inform the Professor about it no matter how many times I told his stubborn head to.”

Scott tried to raise his hand but only managed a poorly executed wave before landing with a soft plop on the mattress “I think, being that the subject is about me, I get to say that—”

“No ya don’t,” Logan snapped at him, “Ya don’t get to say anything.”

Scott frowned, “You’re the one who hid your condition way longer than I did, if anyone doesn’t get to say anything about this, it’s _you_.”

“I ain’t the one lounging on a death bed here, Slim,” he countered, face grim and mouth formed into an ugly snarl. Oddly, Scott found it comforting that the other man was still using his made up names for him, then realized that he must’ve been going crazy to even think of a thought like that in this kind of situation.

“I’m not the one who just died,” he reasoned instead.

“I think ya might’ve forgotten that I can fuckin’ come back.” Logan snarled and Hank only gave him a warning glare.

Scott was aware the blue scientist was trying his best not to give any information to Logan, but he can also see the sheer desperation in his eyes. Scott knew Hank wanted to tell him, get the secret out in the open so that Logan would try and not add burden by being an inconsiderate asshole. But Hank never did, and Scott was thankful for that. When he get through this, _if ever_ he get through this, he’ll treat him coffee.

Logan let out a bitter barked of laugher that Scott couldn’t help but give out a slight wince, the action must’ve done a lot of painful damage on his throat.

“I’m fine,” Scott announced instead, it sounded so wrong in his mouth.

“To hell yer fine,” Logan snapped before holding up his right hand and waved over Scott as if trying to gesturing at his body wholly, “_This_ doesn’t say fine, _this_ fucking say I’m-a-damn-horndog-and-is-about-to-die-soon.”

Instant flare of anger suddenly spiked up from the pit of his belly that Scott knew well isn’t good for his condition, “I’m not a damn _horndog_.” He spat, gripping the sheets tightly, the sudden tickle down his throat made him want to cough, “You on the other hand had, god-knows, how many bed partners you’ve went through and so easily took interest on my wife with just one look. Stop sounding such a hypocrite, Logan.”

“I’ve had sex, so what? Even I don’t know how damn many! But ya don’t see me falling in love with them!” Logan pointed out, voice getting high that sent unwanted discomfort on Scott’s chest. They should stop arguing soon, especially that this kind of topic’s a very sensitive one. Hank hand already noticed this and was trying to pull Logan’s arm, as if telling him to stop, but Logan just kept on going, “Couldn’t even reach a fuckin’ year, is that how quick ya move on? Do ya think Jean would—”

That’s when Scott started hacking up, he tried to refrain it at first, but being that he haven’t healed from his recent incident, keeping the flowers down was taking a huge toll on him. He doubled over and started coughing harsh breaths, it sounded and felt painful. The instant Scott started clutching his chest, Hank was already going through his drawers, desperate on searching for something.

“You need to get out,” Hank ordered looking at Logan, who went silent, a confused and concerned expression painted on his face that made him stood deathly still. 

Was Logan wondering that Scott had reacted on him? He would have known by now if it were him, but considering that he lacks self-esteem just as much as how the feral mutant overages his denseness to actually conclude on that outcome, chances are Logan’s just confused. And Scott hoped that he was.

Hank was striding towards Scott with a syringe in hand, in one quick motion, he punctured it through the younger man’s skin by the left shoulder, “This’ll help you,” he told him, reaching out on a nearby table and quickly snagging a cotton to cover the area where the syringe pierced through as he pulled it out, “But prepare for side effects.”

Scott took a sharp intake of air, immediately feeling a short relief as oxygen easily went through his beaten up air passage, “What kind?” he ask the moment he found the strength to speak, plopping tiredly on the mattress and feeling how heavy his body feels.

“Instant dizziness, and probably headaches.”

Scott groaned, he blinked once then twice before noticing that the ceiling started swirling, “I can deal with the headaches,” he said, “What is this?” he added, head swivelling from the heaviness.

“I manage to find and make something that’s stronger than Chamomile tea,” Hank answered, “But I don’t advise on using it daily, it won’t be healthy, your body might take a sudden relapse if you became depended on these.” He informed him before turning to look at Logan, or Scott felt like he looked at Logan. Everything was suddenly like a spinning pinwheel of death, it felt like he was drunk, only that this time his brain’s still functioning properly.

“I remembered telling you to leave,” Hank reminded the older man, and Scott’s pretty sure that it wasn’t his dizzy brain telling him that it sounded quite venomous. Oddly, he didn’t notice himself gripping Hanks lab coat as if warning him. The furry blue mutant gave him a short glance before exhaling, “He needs rest.”

At least it sounded less angry and more reasonable.

Logan only stood there, Scott couldn’t make out what expression he had on his face, “Al’right,” he answered, sounding more or less inclined.

After Logan got out the entryway down the hall, Hank immediately called out knowing that his heightened sensed would pick it up, “There are tweezers at the hangar, I suggest you try cutting those flowers before it—”

“I didn’t fuckin’ ask for yer damn opinion, Bub!” The older man bellowed sounding very far away down the corridor. A few seconds had passed when there was an added yell of, “Fuckin’ hurry up!” that Hank and Scott assumed was for the elevator.

“You’re mad at him,” Scott said, voice slurry but very far away from sleepy, “Why?” he asked, as if he didn’t know the answer to it. Hank only stayed quiet and pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing a deep breath for a number of times this day, “He doesn’t know,” Scott said when the older mutant remained silent, “He _doesn’t_ know.” He repeated as if to make sure that Hank had heard it.

“Maybe he should.”

Scott tried to let out a carefree laugh, but only a wheeze got out, “And die instantly? Hard pass.”

Death wasn’t the kind of topic that Hank would probably want to have a discussion with him, especially with the current circumstances. Pulling his coat gently out of Scott’s light grip (that he didn’t know he was still doing), Hank told him about showing him the current picture of his lungs before entering a room, presumably where he last placed the X-ray scans. He came back pushing a table with wheels, a projector and a laptop was perched on top of it.

“You could’ve just printed a picture.” Scott informed him.

“I did, but after injecting a serum on you and already knowing its effects, I doubt you’ll be able to take a look on a partially small picture this big without immediately having a headache.” He informed him, pausing shortly to illustrate a size as big as Scott’s head before returning on fixing up the projector.

A few moments later, Scott was looking at what seemed to be his lungs that was already mostly covered with stems and small bulbs of flowers. It was _far_ from Logan’s state but being that he doesn’t have any healing abilities, Hank wasn’t at all too happy while having this conversation with him.

“I haven’t stopped trying to figure another way.” Hank told him, voice low and almost sounding defeated.

“I know,” he replied surely.

Hank gave him a look, a look that showed he heard the resignation in Scott’s voice. Maybe he didn’t meant it to sound like that, but he didn’t want to correct it, it was as if his subconscious had intentionally accepted his fate not matter how cliché or corny it sounds.

“Starting now,” Hank told him instead after a small shake of his head, as if trying to dislodge the grim topic, “You’re under extreme observation, expect yourself having someone to look after you constantly. Yes, that includes night time,” he added when he noticed Scott opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m not an infant, Hank,” Scott complained. 

“And Hanahaki is worse than cancer,” the older mutant countered. 

There was a moment of silence because 1.) Scott has nothing to say to that; and 2.) Even if there was, he’s pretty sure it won’t do any help with Hank’s obvious disappointment on him, “Do they know?” Scott asked instead. 

Hank gave him a look, something that Scott couldn’t put a finger on, “We’ve decided not to inform the students about it, all they know is that you’re not feeling well and its best not to have any visitors for the mean time.” Scott’s eyebrows shot up at the last statement, he’s not really expecting any student to visit him, especially with the reputation he has on them, “The Professor haven’t left his office yet.” Hank added after a moment of thought.

“He’s probably disappointed.” 

“Not with you,” Scott let out a rough scoff, “_Not_ with you, Scott,” he repeated, when the silence stretched longer and with no one saying anything. Hank exhaled and hiked his glasses up, “Rest, I know you just woke up but it’s better to have your head blank than let you over think.”

Scott didn’t have to be told twice.

* * *

The next time Scott woke up, Logan was standing by the door at the hallway, he knew that bulky silhouette through the opaque window from anywhere. He though that the older man would enter the room any minute now that he’s awake, but Scott had already fallen back to sleep after hours of waiting alone in the med lab.

He would always wake up having a glass of Chamomile tea beside him, and (dare he looked) a catheter hanging on the bedframe. He haven’t taken a look on his genitals after he noticed the packet. Somehow, while he was unconscious, Hank had manage to transfer him from a gurney and onto a clean bed, it had made him wonder how much he weighted now, not that he was conscious on how his wristed started to look a bit boney.

Hank was true to his word that he would always find someone taking watch over him, ordering him to drink up and eat porridge or soup. Much to his disappointment, he’s on a liquid diet since his throat won’t be able to swallow down chunky foods without hurting himself, he had no complains on the soup, but he’s starting to miss his daily meal routine. 

Out of all of the adults that had been keeping an eye on him, Logan was the only one _constant_. Not that he was counting, but he would always see the older man sitting quietly at the corner of the room four times a day, and that doesn’t even count the nightly visits. Due to constantly sleeping, his body clock had change, he found himself waking up at night, either to cough or that his head’s too heavy after taking too much rest. He would notice Logan in the room, wide awake, sometimes staring at him or walking around the huge space as if to find something amusing.

Logan’s always there at night, maybe Scott had just manage to always catch the older man and somehow manages to miss the others, but there was never a time he wouldn’t see Logan at night. He wondered, for a brief moment, that maybe Logan’s the only one who took the extra job. He didn’t want to hope (since hoping had ended him on the med lab) but it’s poking at his curiosity constantly, it doesn’t help the fact that there’s nothing else for him to do other than to think. 

“Logan’s pretty adamant on looking over you at night,” Munroe had told him one afternoon while Scott was eating his lunch; chicken soup.

Scott had stopped thinking about it since then. Keeping his emotions in check had always been his forte after all.

Logan never talked to him, unlike Kurt and the others, they at least try to tell Scott what had happened in school or missions just to entertain him. Logan, however, had somehow sewn an invisible thread over his mouth. They constantly make eye contact since the older man doesn’t know whenever Scott’s observing him. Somehow, he always found himself the first to look away.

The daily silence was supposed to bore him, but the presence of the older man in the room was enough for Scott to feel fine. Cliché as it may be, but with Logan not doing anything and just staying in the area was comforting. Logan wasn’t doing anything to make the flowers grow rapidly, and his presence was helping Scott not to over think about the older man’s whereabouts since he’s next to him.

They both suck when it comes to communication, but oddly, Scott finds it as an advantage. He never felt at ease ever since Jean died until today. 

It didn’t take long for Scott to feel a little bit stronger after a few days of rest under Hank’s extreme observation. He wanted to at least do something with his immense amount of free time. Although it wasn’t advisable for him to tire himself out, he reassured Hank that reading cases about Hanahaki won’t be much of a hindrance for his health. The blue mutant was hesitant at first but gave in after a few persuasions, he put up a rule that Scott would only be allowed to read up to ten printed pages per day, they bargained for a little while and somehow successfully landed on fifteen pages. That’s good enough for Scott.

The next time he woke up, there was a bottle of Chamomile tea, a stack of fifteen papers on the bedside table and Kurt flipping through the pages with a scrunched up expression.

“Vhat are those?” He asked as soon as he noticed that Scott’s awake and started helping him to sit up.

“Research.” He replied, “Hank approved,” he added as soon as he noticed the look that the German gave him, “Can you hand it over to me?”

Because of his health, Scott sometimes finds himself falling asleep while in the middle of reading the research papers. It started to annoy him because whenever he wakes up, the latest person who had taken watch had stacked it unorderly. Yes, he’s talking about Munroe, the only person who’s pretty much vocal about her disappointment about it.

“Why did Hank approved of this?” She complained after watching him read through the fourth paper.

“If Hank agreed that I’m suited to at least read, then I don’t see any problems with it,” Scott replied, flipping on the next page, obviously avoiding Ororo’s menacing glare. 

Logan’s reaction towards it, not that it’s important, was to stutter on entering the room, glare at him (although that’s already a default expression) and take his usual spot at the far corner. They don’t talk, they never do, it’s one of the things Scott was thankful of, no questions or stories that could worsen the situation. Logan’s presence’s like a minefield, you don’t really know if the next move you’ll make would make things worse, but staying silent and remaining in one place wouldn’t do anything but to keep you alive.

When Scott zonked out while reading something mid-sentence, he woke up at night with Logan still in the room. A small table on his bed with a lamp placed on top of it. There was a clip on a certain paper that indicates where Scott’s last analysis was. He didn’t said anything, he just stared at it for a full second before silently resuming his work. Scott didn’t missed to notice that the older man had started bringing a magazine about vehicles with him.

“What does he do when he’s not taking watch?” Scott asked one afternoon when Hank came in to change his urine pack.

The older mutant gave him a warning look.

One of Hank’s many rules was not to ask anything about Logan, not unless he’s sure it won’t do any damage to his condition. Apparently, everything that involves the feral mutant is off limits to discuss, not to mention Hank’s still not wholly on board with the idea of Logan taking watch, especially when he seem to make it his mission to be always here. If Hank had his way, Logan would probably be off limits down the sublevels if it weren’t for the fact that he’ll make it too obvious.

“Professionally speaking and also kind of work related,” Scott added, trying to find reason, “Since Logan’s also under your observation, I assume that he’s condition’s promising and is probably capable of handling a class. But if not, then I think as a concerned colleague, not friend, definitely not a friend, I’m just wondering what does he do when he’s not taking watch.”

Scott would later deny that even with such a short speech, his jaw was already sore from moving.

Hank gave it a thought, a long thought, before sighing in resignation while, “He’s with me in the lab, sometimes he’s only upstairs to eat or watch hockey, but he’s usually in the lab.” He told Scott tried his best not to have his eyebrows shot up his hairline, “He’s annoying, _very_ annoying, but I appreciate that he helps.”

Scott wanted to ask what does Logan do to help but he felt like Hank won’t be answering more of his questions anymore.

“Scott, what if—” Hank said after a moment of silence, stopping himself the last minute as if to say that it’s probably a bad idea to continue.

“What if what?” 

The blue mutant was silence for a full second before shaking his head as if to dislodge and idea, “Nothing.” He answered before starting to clean up, “I’ll be back with an update on your condition. For the meantime, Kurt will be down here any minute to take watch.”

* * *

Kurt had turned out to be Logan because according to the feral mutant, the German’s currently under detention duty. As soon as Logan had taken his usual spot, Scott realized that they just exchanged a few words to each other after so many days of being silent. It felt natural somehow, but he shrugged the idea off before it could do any harm.

Hank came in after a couple of pages later and a few drinks on his chamomile tea. The blue mutant was startled for a minute after finding out that Logan’s in the room instead of Kurt. The sudden purse of his lips made it very obvious that he’s not happy with the sudden change.

“Well, what is it, furball?” Logan asked impatiently. For a moment, Scott had a feeling that Logan didn’t want Hank to join in. 

“I told you to bring your bottle everywhere with you, didn’t I?” Hank reminded him instead, voice stern.

There was a pause.

“It’s in yer lab, I’ll get it later.” 

“You should probably get it now.”

Logan stared at him for a second, his eyes wandering on his clip board and the USB he was holding, “Wat’cha got there?” he asked instead.

Hank straightened up, “Nothing that concerns you or your health,” he replied before marching towards the projector and laptop that he left there ever since he brought it in. Scott felt as if there was something going on in here that he can’t seem to comprehend. 

Logan shrugged before leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest, as if his mind had already settled on the idea of wanting to see it and has no plans of changing any minute now. Knowing how stubborn he could get, Hank sighed irritably but didn’t said anything before pushing up a button for the projector to start up. A minute later, they’re staring at what seemed to be Scott’s lungs, but something was wrong.

“That’s just recently, right?” Scott asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes.” Was the blue mutant’s automatic reply.

“I don’t fucking get it, what am I supposed to look at? Vines?” Logan asked.

Hank rolled his eyes and gave Scott a look that obviously imparts a message saying, _Really, Scott? Him? I’d be happier if it was Warren_, Scott didn’t said anything, he just shrugged as the furry mutant turned to look at Logan, “The flowers are currently closed,” he pointed out as if to state the obvious while indicating at the closed bulbs around the corner, “And it somehow stopped growing.”

Logan suddenly sat up straighter, “The hell does that mean?”

“It means, as of now,” Hank started, hiking his glasses up as if to show for effect, “Scott’s stable,” he said before blinking to himself, as if he was trying to realize or remember something, “I think I’ve read a similar case like this before.”

“And?” Logan asked, raising both eyebrows impatiently.

Hank gave the feral mutant a cold stare, “And I have to look it up again because I have a big brain, not an eidetic memory,” he snapped.

Logan scoffed and scratched the side of his neck before leaning back on the chair’s backrest, “This a good or a bad thing, Bub?” he asked again.

Scott looked up at Hank as if to bestow the same question, the furry mutant just stood there for a couple of seconds before turning slightly to turn the device off with his right hand, “It’s a good thing,” he answered, “I don’t know whatever you’re doing or how this happened, but this is a good thing and I would like for you to keep it up.”

Jean had told Scott a couple of times together that he had a problem about understanding other people’s feelings, or as the kids these days calls it as being dense. Today, however, it may not sound like it, but Scott felt as if he could hear Hank saying ‘please’ at the end of his sentence.

Please, one simple word that can somehow depict other people’s desperation. 

“I wonder what Jean would say if she’s here,” Scott wondered aloud.

“Just fucking read yer damn papers, Slim.” Logan snarled.

* * *

Kurt wasn’t a big fan of lying nor has the heart to do so, and being that he can’t hide a secret was the whole reason why he had somehow unintentionally told Marie why Scott was currently unavailable, Hank had built up a busy schedule for him just avoid conversing with students as much as possible after that. He didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. Logan having known to have hanahaki was enough of a ruckus.

So it didn’t surprised Scott when Marie visited him unannounced.

He was reading a new batch of papers while Logan sleeps open mouthed at the corner of the room, head tilted upwards and leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. The only reason why Scott didn’t concluded that Logan was dead because he could see the rise and fall of his chest perfectly.

There was a soft knock on the door that caused the older man to jerk his head but nonetheless remained asleep. Looking up, Scott saw Rogue standing by the doorway. There were no greetings exchanged, she just went straight up the older man and tapped him awake with her gloved hand.

The older man woke up with a jolt, “The fuck?” He said drowsily, “The hell are ya doing here, kid?” he asked instantly.

“It’s Saturday,” Marie replied, “Kitty’s driving lessons.”

Logan’s face immediately fell, “Fuck no.” was his immediate answer.

Marie wasn’t impressed, “You promised you’d help her.”

“I said I’ll fucking teach her,” The older man grumbled while rubbing his nape, “Didn’t know I was signing myself up on a suicide mission.” Suddenly remembering where he was, Logan paused and turned to look at Scott who was silently watching them from the bed, a paper on both hands while somehow looking very interested with the conversation.

“I think you should keep your promise, Logan,” Scott said instead after a moment of silence.

Logan stared at him, then back at Marie, he repeated this three times before scratching his head, “Fuck it,” he said before standing up with as much finesse a man with metal bones could have, “I ain’t gonna die from these damn flowers but by a freak accident instead.” He grumbled.

“That’s not funny,” Marie stated.

“Then it ain’t a joke,” Logan retorted, “I’m just gonna tell furrball to take my place.”

“Why don’t you just go meet up with Kitty, I’ll tell Dr. McCoy instead,” Marie replied quickly, too quick Scott noticed.

Logan stared at her with one raised eyebrow before shrugging off to head out.

“Is there really a driving lesson today?” Scott asked the minute he knew that Logan’s heightened hearing won’t overheard, it surprised him how much he knew about the older man and his mutation.

“There is,” Marie replied, “But it’s later at three, I figured Logan’s not the type of guy to look at the time.”

“Clever girl,” Scott said impressed before stacking the papers at the corner of his bed table, “I suppose you’re here for a reason?” He asked unable to beat around the bush.

Guiltily, Marie bit her lower lip and nodded once, “You asked me once if there was a person that Logan probably like,” She said that instantly earned Scott’s whole attention, “What if he’s someone all of us knew, someone who’s around for a while here, someone who probably made Logan stay after… the accident.”

_The accident_, a fancier name for Jean’s death, somehow it didn’t felt as morbid as it was before not when flowers growing inside your lungs seems to be a lot worse.

“You know who he is.” It wasn’t a question.

Marie shrugged hesitantly, “Just a strong feeling,” she replied, “I had a lot of thinking when I learned about your, well, state and I, uhmm,” she paused, took a deep breath and grunted, “Maybe you and Logan a-are, are just killing each—”

The door opened and Hank came in with a puzzled expression, “Ms. Marie, “ he called earning two head to look at his way, “If you don’t have any Danger Room business, I don’t suppose there’s other more reasons for you to be in here.”

“Right,” She replied instantly, “I uhmm, I was—”

“She was just heading out.” Scott interrupted, saving Marie for future trouble. He gave her a look and she didn’t need to be told twice to head out and leave. Hank watched her retreating form before turning to look back at his patient.

“I saw Logan leaving the room,” Hank explained.

“She was about to tell me who _he_ is, Hank,” Scott said instead, “You could’ve waited a minute longer before going inside then we’d probably have a better way of handling this.”

When the older mutant only stared at him and only took a deep breath, Scott realized that it wasn’t Hank’s mission anymore to investigate about it, “It’s something like this that you should stop, Scott,” Hank told him patiently, “You were doing just fine not thinking about it.”

“Maybe I’ll do just as fine if I knew about him,” Scott pressed on.

“Or maybe it’ll just be the last nail for your coffin,” Hank supplied, “Let’s not find out.”

* * *

Scott woke up in the middle of the night, feeling groggy as usual. His head turned automatically as if to check if Logan’s in the room. Usually he would notice the older man sleeping or reading a magazine from his spot as he, in turn, resume on analysing a couple of research papers, but instead he saw an empty chair beside him.

Suddenly feeling uneasy, Scott slowly braced himself up with his fore arms, the minute he saw a huge lump on the floor with carnation flowers littered across, the floor, Scott found himself scrambling off his bed. The IV needle snapped off his hand with a sharp sting but Scott ignored it, forgetting the fact that his legs are currently jelly-o, he found himself falling painfully on the metal floor along with his bed table.

Ignoring the discomfort, Scott dragged himself to reach were Logan was and started patting him on the back, “Logan,” he called but there was no response, “Logan,” he called again, slamming his palm harder on his back, “Logan!”, an explosion of pain whenever his hand hits Logan’s hard flesh, “Wake up, Logan!”

Sudden hysteria rising uncharacteristically out of him, Scott intertwined both his hands and raised it up over his head before slamming it back down on the older man’s backside. The sudden pain on both of his hands were forgotten the moment Logan bolted upright, taking in a sharp breath as if he was under the water for too long.

“The hell are ya doing?” Logan asked the minute he noticed where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

“You weren’t waking up,” he informed him, Scott felt a tinge of déjà vu the moment those words left his mouth, “How many times do you have to die before you tell me who he is?”

Logan’s face instantly morphed into a scowl, “Don’t bother counting, I ain’t gonna tell ya.” He informed him before immediately standing up, he let out a wince that he managed to hide quite impressively before trying to haul Scott off the floor by the armpits.

“I can do it my own,” Scott instantly said before trying to push Logan’s hands away. Either the older man didn’t heard him or he just blatantly ignored what he just said because he still hauled Scott off the floor like a baby before placing him down on the bed, “I said I can do it on my own.” He repeated while noticing the light blotches of blood on his clothes.

Logan scoffed, “Yeah right.” 

There was a moment of silence as the older man openly stared at him. Feeling there’s nothing else to say, Scott turned and was about to get comfortable on the bed again when Logan opened his mouth. 

“Who she?” Scott froze, “She hot? Smart? Better than Jeanie?”

Logan uttering her name in the sentence felt like a knife to the gut, “I don’t suppose discussing about this person is relevant.”

“What, ya get to bitch about the person I like and not yers?” Logan snorted, “A bit unfair don’t’cha think?”

He could feel his own chest starting to hurt and his throat to tighten, Scott found himself gripping the bed sheets in a tight fist, his jaw automatically clenched hard as if preventing the incoming petals to come out, “Stop asking me.”

“Makes me wonder what kinda girl she is to fucking capture yer damn heart so suddenly,” Logan continued.

Scott stayed silent, head looking down on his lap as his arm shake from holding on too tight, it started to hurt. The pain in his throat began to burn, but he kept quiet, this was what Hank told him about, discussing about the other one’s beloved will be nothing but the last nail driven into their coffin. 

Then Logan scoffed that sounded as if he realized something, like a cruel joke, “She’s not a girl huh.” He said, sounding between from surprise and disbelief, “No wonder Jean’s outta the picture, no guy can be—”

“Shut up,” Was what Scott said, “You don’t know anything.”

“Yeahh,” Logan said, “But I do know is that yer stupid, and ya must be fucking easy.”

Scott wanted to say that he wasn’t easy, that none of this was easy. It wasn’t like he asked for this to happened, he was never good at coming into terms with his own feelings, that if he could dodge the bullet then he would. But he couldn’t say any of those because it hurts. Maybe it was his throat, maybe it was his heart that burns the most, but everything just hurts so badly.

He wants to push it all out of his mouth but it’s too big, nothing was coming out, nothing but his voice that doesn’t even sound like him. He punched his chest and clutched at the flesh beside him, as if trying his damn best to take it all out. He wanted to slice his own throat open just to pull the flowers out. He wanted to yell at Logan because he could’ve just shut his mouth and nothing like this would have to happen.

Then he can’t breathe as something thick drool out of his mouth. His grip was slackening and his vision’s starting to blacken out. Then Scott wondered if this was better.

_“Get the hell out, and don’t you dare step foot inside this room.”_

Scott woke up with Hank besides him, hand pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to compose himself, “Don’t move,” he instantly said, not even turning to look at him, “I suggest you lay down for a bit.”

“Where’s Logan?” Was Scott’s immediate question, not at all surprised that his voice sounded hoarse and felt as if shards of glass were stuck inside it. It was stupid how he sounded like a love struck teenager, he knew it wasn’t healthy anymore, especially with what was happening to him currently.

Hank took a moment to take a deep breath before standing up to check Scott’s fluids, “He won’t be visiting the med lab any time soon.”

“I don’t mind his visits.”

“Well, I do.” Hank snapped, “And so does your health,” he added with pointing his finger at him, “I remembered advising you not to discuss anything that could worsen the situation, Scott.” He said, disappointment coating his voice, “I thought you were better than this.”

Scott has nothing to say to that, but instead he asked, “Is this what we call trying to win a losing battle?”

“Yes,” Hank replied truthfully, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, more importantly to you, but try to cooperate.”

* * *

Scott found himself sleeping more and more as the days continues to come and go, there something at the back of his head kept that on nagging him, something he should take into account but he couldn’t pin point what exactly it was without straining himself. Hank had done the lengths by even removing the research papers away from him, to which led a different argument.

He didn’t know how he managed as days went by. Hank said that waking up every time was enough work for him. Scott never imagined that he’ll end up in this kind of situation, he hates it, he despise being on the bed and not able to do anything. He should up and about, helping, teaching, training.

_Falling in love is a lot more complicated than it seems._ He thought, it was never easy even with Jean, what was he expecting with Logan?

It seemed like any other day when Scott remembered.

He woke up but instead of finding either Ororo, Kurt or Hank sitting at the corner of the room, he found a bulk of mass behind the opaque windows outside. He knew that form by heart, but the minute he was planning to call out on him, Logan’s head turned as if sensing that Scott’s finally awake. The older man left without as much of a second thought after that.

“He never steps foot inside,” Hank told him at the other side of the bed that took Scott by surprise with a snap of his neck.

“Has he always been doing that?” Scott asked him instead.

The older mutant hooked the newly replaced IV bag before slipping both paws inside his pockets, “He leaves whenever you’re close to waking up.”

“Why?” That one word held a lot of questions, _Why was he here? Why was Logan waiting outside? Why does he only leave when he wakes up? Why was he doing this?_ And Hank heard each and every one of it.

“Sometimes I felt like I know why,” Hank answered without looking at him voice low but bearable to understand, “I know that it’s true,” he added, “But then what if it’s not? And you’ll end up taking the fall instead?”

Then Scott gets it, “You know who he is.” It wasn’t a question, “For how long?”

Hank finally turned to look at him, his face looking as if this was his last resort, as if this was a risk he’s finally willing to take because nothing was working anymore. “For a while now,” he answered truthfully, “I’m not a hundred percent positive, and I only have a strong feeling about him.

“There are two things I have to consider if I tell you,” Hank continued, “One, this might lead into a happy ending, or two, it won’t and one person has to take the consequence.” He explained, “That person wouldn’t be me.”

_Oh._

Scott’s the one taking the consequence, because the person was him. Hank had a strong feeling that the person Logan was coughing flowers for was him, and if he was wrong, the false hope would only worsen the situation. Hank had took the risk to inform Scott because this might be the only option they have left, and it was better than nothing.

Scott suddenly remembered Marie’s words _“Maybe you and Logan a-are, are just killing each—”_

_Each other_. It was ‘each other’, they were killing each other, how Scott managed to overlook that detail surprised him.

“Where is he?” Scott asked instead immediately scrambling off the bed, somehow finding sudden energy that he couldn’t seem to find before.

“The elevator haven’t arrived yet,” Hank only answered, “You’ll see Logan waiting still waiting for it.” He added, looking less inclined to watch what will happen next.

Using the IV stand as for support, Scott started dragging himself towards the door with Hank standing behind him, paws inside his pockets probably clenched in a tight fist. Scott was already at the door when the blue mutant called back, the doubtfulness was undeniably present in his voice.

“Scott,” Hank called out, “What if I’m wrong?”

“Then let’s just hope that you’re not.” Scott answered instead before bolting out the door.

Maybe the thought of Logan probably reciprocating his feelings was what gave him the vigour to run, he didn’t try to think of the negative possibilities that might ensue, he’ll deal with that once he reached the bridge. Pulling out the needle embedded on his skin with one swift tug, Scott ditched the IV stand and started running towards the elevator with his bare feet. Surely enough, he spotted Logan about to take a step inside.

“WOLVERINE!” Scott yelled as loud as he could.

Logan’s head snapped up and his face practically yelled his usual ‘The hell?’ expression. Scott was probably lucky that Logan was quick on the uptake when the guy started sprinting back at him, because hidden energy or not, Scott’s starting to feel the ache in his bones.

“ARE YA FUCKING OUT OF YER MIND!?” Logan screamed at him the minute he was at arm’s reach and took a firm grip on Scott shoulders, “Do ya want a death wish, Slim? Are ya fucking crazy?!”

“Probably,” Was what Scott replied instead before taking a hold of the older mutant’s face to kiss him. It was probably a stupid decision to make, but Scott was tired and found that kissing him was the only option for him to confess his feelings without wasting his breath.

The kiss was sloppy like any other first kiss would always be, hands pulling awkwardly at each other, a firm grip on his back and head while his own hands worm around Logan’s shoulder. Scott found that he likes it being sloppy and awkward.

“He was you,” Scott said the minute he broke away, forehead touching each other as Logan only stared at him, Scott didn’t know what kind of expression the older guy had but he’d take it as a positive sign, “He was you,” Scott repeated, “Tell me _he_ was me.”

It doesn’t matter if the response was long or short, but when Logan answered quietly, voice uncharacteristically soft, Scott breathed like he just took his first breath.

_“Yeah.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay... I really don't like how I ended this story. To be honest I wrote this story with only up to chapter 3 planned ahead, deciding that I'll just make up the the ending of chapter 4 as I go. 
> 
> But boy was I wrong.
> 
> This last chapter literally kept me up for days, I tried thinking of a less cringe worthy ending, but failed miserably. I hope you don't sue me because of this.

**Author's Note:**

> KUDOS AND CMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED! LUV YA!!!


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